I died today. Or was it yesterday? Perhaps tomorrow—same difference now. Every breath and every step—they’ve all led me to where the sun doesn’t shine and the wind doesn’t blow. Life seems different from up here—almost…beautiful—pleasure and pain, joy and suffering—our every hue painted as one stroke across the canvas of eternity. I used to imagine myself reliving those days of yore in a way different than I had—better, and without flaw. But now I see, clear as day, there was only ever one path for me—from the first star to the last flickering now to faintest dust, time was but a lens through which us tainted specks could perceive a destiny already passed. There is a solace then, in knowing that I was but a crackle in the fires of a charred life, burnt away before even setting aflame.