I am a 19-year old boy from Copenhagen, who would like to share a few texts and receive a lot of comments and critic. Enjoy, if you can.
My first entry is an introduction to the "author" of the texts that are to follow.
NB: The character of PM (Post Mortem, the author) is fictional, but it represents my views.
Post Mortem:
The only thing I knew for sure was that I was dead. The doctor might have disagreed. He told everyone who would listen, that he had found a pulse. That my heart was beating, my eyes blinking and that I was still breathing. But what do vital signs really mean. I am glad that they did not perform an autopsy, because that would probably have removed those vital signs, but never the less, I actually did asked them to do it. In my furry and my distress, the only clear thought I had was: What did kill me? How could a seemingly fit, healthy 19 year old kid just die, without any indications of actually having died? But I was dead. That I knew for sure. That was the only thing I knew for sure. I think I was the only one who knew for sure. The shrinks that they forced me to visit, agreed that some part of me had changed, but none of them knew that nothing had changed. I had simply died with no change at all.
I assume that it all started, when I started to realize my solitude, but again, I am a little dizzy on the facts. When a dead man breathes, everything becomes a little dizzy. Confusing. I am no doctor. I don’t have a medical degree and I have not studied the human body at all. I know the vital signs and I know what to look for: pulse, heartbeat, and breathing. Is the head or is the head not attached to the body. I am not brain dead, but all my thoughts are dead. If you read this, please don’t consider organ donation. I approve, but I am just not a suitable candidate. However persistent I might be, that I am in fact dead, I do not think that the hospital would even consider removing my organs. Not when the heart is still pumping thick, red blood through my veins. Does my voice sound different? I do not think so. It might a little rusty from my isolation, but apart from that, no. I am not sure if you can actually hear, whether a person is alive or not. Corpses don’t normally talk that much. Or at least that is what I have heard. But I have never believed in any of that whole undead, zombie, voodoo shit. And I can say one thing for sure, I am not undead. The undead has got no pulse, and they are supposed to decay, right? Well, I look the same. I might have gained some weight, forgotten to shave, but I am not decaying. All in all, I am doing great. Well, I am dead, but other than that I am doing quite fine, thank you.
The two major issues in any autopsy are the cause and the time of death. I am not sure of neither of those. As for the cause, they never did perform the autopsy, so that is quite a blank area, and it will therefore be the main focus of my further investigations. The time is easier to calculate, but none the less intriguing. I do not think that any one has ever had a slower death than mine. I started dying when I was about fourteen, and only now do I fully understand, just how dead I am. I have truly become an excellent subject for a pathological study. Some medical student would probably receive top grades for a paper on me. If he could figure me out. For however fascinating I might be, it is all very ineffable. My whole situation is so very complex, that I should probably just let it go. Accept that I am truly dead, and just get a move on with my afterlife or wait around for that miracle cure in a red dress that just might resurrect me. I am dead, and everything is going so terribly wrong, thank you!
