Amicus Est Tanquam Alter Idem Pt. 2

A Thought


By: Amy Scheibe






     Once upon a time in a land that we cannot see. There are colors, and sounds, tastes, smells and feelings. There are light and dark, shadows, animals, grass, and life. There is also this thing called Death; Its where one lives, then doesn't—It’s a most peculiar thing. Most things fear death, they are afraid to fall into an abyss of a state of the great cycle while they cannot understand why. For me, death was just the beginning. You would think that such things don't exist—an after life per se—but for me, it did. It’s a malicious place; you have no idea where the start begins or where it all ends. There are no colors, no black, no white or even gray, no sounds, not even tastes—oh how I long to taste again. There is only you, only you and your thoughts. You yourself seem to wonder if all you are is a thought. How can such a place exist? That’s a question I still ponder myself.

     It seems each thing I think of something, the closer I feel to it. Yet it is not a feeling—since I myself am only a thought. So what is this place? How do you describe it? I cannot.

     Just imagine a place where nothing itself even exists on its own. It’s only a thought—with thoughts of its own. Death. Just a 5-letter word but its what’s inside it, not even a single thought of my intelligence can perceive that 5 lettered word. I wonder if I am dreaming. I will wake up one day and this one nothing—though there is no time here either—will find me, just to turn me into living being again. Touching the warm bed sheets, feeling the linen slide over my skin, hearing myself breathe—a sensation some take for granted. You'll find when you die you miss air. Even when you lived you couldn’t physically see it but there’s something you miss the most. Maybe it was that feeling each time everything seemed to drift away as you took in a deep breathe… the air passing through your lips and into your lungs, the exhale that you can never EVER forget. Not even in death. 

     It’s not possible to be a thought with its own thoughts. Is it? But it is true. The thought of Death as a thought itself has many thoughts as well—me being one of them. Like I said before, There are no sounds or dark or light here, so you must wonder how I know of the other thoughts. There is no way to describe it to you because you only know of the 5 or 6 senses. I can describe it with none of those but per se a 7th sense.

Remember them