The Love of My Afterlife

by Kirsty Greenwood

She died just as she lived: alone, perplexed, wearing something a bit shit.

People say I’m prickly, but I am rainbow-stuffed sunshine compared to this guy.

The problem with so many people you encounter in life is that they’re being the version of themselves they think they should be rather than the person they actually are.

I spot Leanne waving at me from the window of the pharmacy over the road. The poster in the window beside her is advertising STD medication. “I…I gave him chlamydia,” I finish. Why did I say that? Why did that come out of my mouth?

I am screaming lmao WHY WOULD THAT BE WHAT YOU SAY?!??

“Crying means you’re feeling,” Jan muses. “That you’re living. That you’re loving.”

“Were you aware that emotional tears have a higher protein concentration than tears that come from irritation?” Jan asks, as if this is something that the everyday person would know. “I read online that the higher protein content makes them fall down your cheeks more slowly—increasing the chance they’ll be seen by people and attract help. Your body is literally built for community. Tears literally attract people. So cry away!”

The thing about people is you have to let them drag you to places you don’t want to go. Let them tell you things you don’t want to hear. Let them break you and put you back together. Like my beloved Stephen Sondheim wrote—Somebody hold me too close, somebody hurt me too deep. That’s what being alive is.”

being alive is about experiencing the full gamut of emotions. If you’re not feeling pushed and pulled and scared and delighted instead of just safe—then you’re not doing it right.

A life, witnessed. A life, lived. There’s so much to see, so much to do, so much to feel.