Pie Iesu Domine, dona eis requiem.

With 15 minutes left in 3rd hour, the announcement finally came.  She was dead.  Services will be this Sunday.  Clergy and Counsellors would be available.

I didn’t know the girl, nor do I feel particularly distraught at her death.  Most of the day was spent being alternately sickened by those faking grief for attention and those faking apathy and cruelty for the same reason. 

When I was a freshman, a girl in my English class died of a brain tumor.  My teacher told us that, as children, we could not comprehend death.  And for many of my classmates, it was their first experience with the fact that they are not immortal.  There’s thousands of things that could terminate my existence before I even get out of bed in the morning.

Supposedly, the girl was a good person.  Nearly everyone becomes a good person when they’re dead. 

Someone asked me if I believed in an afterlife, and I said no.  I do not believe in the “spirit” or the “soul.”  I believe there is nothing more to humans than their physical body.  Even for good people.  It probably wasn’t the right thing to say.  If they want to paint pictures of breathtaking gates, golden roads, and ethereally beautiful angels, so let them.  I doubt my words could change their minds anyway.