Happy Death Day

What if I told you I was dead. Would you believe me? I stand here talking to you. I breath, I eat but it’s all to keep the rot away. To keep my doctor and therapist happy.

No? Of course not, because we are told once we die, our bodies stop moving. The body will start to decay, but what if Death didn’t come for you? What if the soul is still in that body? Why couldn’t I keep using it? Logic and science tells us all that’s not how this works. But I know that I am dead!

This all started three weeks ago. I was talking down the street when something hit me in the back of my head. Everything went black after that.

When I woke up, I was in the hospital. The first thing I saw was a nurse. When she saw me open my eyes, she smiled. It was not a kind, warm smile, it was closer to a malicious. Even now when I close my eyes, I can see her and that smile.

The doctor came in shortly after I had open my eyes. I had been hit in the back of the head. Still don’t know what it was. The doctor went on to say I was lucky to be alive. I looked up at him, confused.

“I’m dead though.” My voice was very matter of fact. I could feel that I was no longer part of the living.

The doctor just looked at me for a moment before the chart. He smiled that kind one you do to a kid when they are up to no good. He asked me if I was pulling his leg and when I said no, he nodded. I could tell he didn’t know how to deal with a corpse that was talking to him.

With an excuse the doctor left. I remember him say something about tests.

I spent the next two weeks in the hospital with tests and since I had no one to watch over me, they didn’t want to release me. I also had three square meals a day and I was dead. I had no where to rush off to.

The test all pretty much came back normal but I remember something was off about the MRI.

This is when I meet my therapist. She was not what I expecting. She never once really pushed on me being dead but yet speaking. Though we did talk about why I felt dead.

I could feel my organs rotting in me. I could feel them almost stopping if I didn’t eat enough food.

We would talk each day and she was kind. Found out I had a rare condition called Cotard Syndrome but better know as the walking corpse syndrome. Mr Therapist said with a smile that in time I would get better.

Doubt was all I had, I know I’m dead. I can feel it but I did trust her. So I ate and slept. They even got me a coffin to help me sleep better.

So I write in the journal to help me gather my thoughts but I thought I write down my whole expense just in-case death takes me and someone sees I really was a walking corpse.

(Dramatic swell of music and dramatic pause)

I put down my old journal. That had been so long ago. I had slowly come to grips with being alive once more.

Every year on the day I died, I read this journal entry to remember how I felt all those years ago.

Happy Death Day