What I know now that I didnít know before is that people donít really fear death. What scares people is the act of dying. Thatís the part that gets us. I should know. Iím dead. Being dead isnít at all very different from being alive. When I was alive, I used to think that as a ghost I would do all that crazy stuff like walk through walls and scare white people. Thatís not the case. I spend most of my time walking around looking at people. Living people. Thatís the one thing that sucks about being dead. As a dead man, I realize how stupid life really is. If I had known that, after being hit by a bus while helping that lady cross the street, I would have nothing to do but watch other people, I would have taken it easy in life. I wouldnít have worked two jobs, I wouldnít have gotten married, and I definitely wouldnít have watched what I ate. Basically what Iím saying is that after death I really understood what Fiona Apple meant when she called this life bullshit.
Donít get me wrong. I wish I were still alive. And being hit by that bus kind of hurt But death has its perks, too. I never have to sleep, even though I like to. I never have to change clothes, Iím stuck in the same three-piece suit that I was wearing when I got hit. Also, I can actually walk through walls, but I donít because my parents raised me to have some respect. Death is alright. I really canít complain. The truth, though, is that Iím not sure of where exactly this is going. I donít know if this is considered purgatory, or heaven, or if I just jumped out of my body like Bill Cosby in Ghost Dad. You would think after you die, God would reveal himself, but no, I am still very much in the dark on that subject. I still go to church. Every now and then, just in case.
There are others like me. I donít really like them, though. For the most part, they are all overemotional bastards watching over their families, hoping to make contact with them someday. The way I see it, though, what would you say to them? ďHi, Iím dead, and all I ever do is watch your every move, have a nice life with me looking over your shoulder every goddamn minute of every goddamn day.Ē Itís just creepy. I prefer to stay in my apartment and watch T.V. and walk around when I want to. Iím sure my wife is fine. Sheís probably dating or crying over me or, most likely, living her life. Thatís what I would expect from her. Mourning was never Aliceís thing. Still, I hope she cries over me, it would make me feel wanted.
My apartment. I live with this girl named Maurine. She is living and doesnít know Iím around. She likes Saturday morning cartoons and B-movies so I pretty much stay there until she starts playing her Aaron Carter CDs that none of her friends know she owns. Thatís when I go for my walks. Except when she dances in her batman underoos. I stay for that show.
All in all, death is pretty much like being homeless. I sort of have a place to live, I donít shower, and I am as broke as they come. I would rather be dead than homeless, though. I wouldnít want to smell, or pee in a jar then keep the jar to warm my face on cold winter nights, or anything like that. That would just plain suck. Being dead is better. Remember this for when you die. Life is good. Death is okay. Being homeless would suck. And walking through walls and scaring white people isnít as funny as one might think. Go on and have a good life.