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if you were dead you wouldn't even know it

CaptainWacky

I want to smell dark matter
it's hard to imagine
 
Makes sense to me.
 
IF we theorise that the common splitting multiverse models are accurate (and I don't), then MAYBE you never die because any time you would've (say a failed suicide attempt) your consciousness just stayed in the universe where you survived, and you're all like, "Fuck this shit, I should've died," but what you don't know is that in most circumstances you did, and then you live for like 100 more years and you say to yourself, "I'm a hundred and twenty years old, why the fuck am I not yet deceased? Everybody else dies by the time they're 115," but then you start to realise that you're going to live forever because in some chaotic variant of the multiverse you'll randomly end up with immortality, and your agency is stuck with that shit, so a thousand years later, you're all wrinkled, crippled, and in horrid existential agony, and all the young punks are dropping Alpha Kentauric acid, but none of the fuckers will give it to you, because you've been locked in a medical research lab for the last six centuries, and every morning a huge raven comes in to peck out your liver, but every afternoon, it grows back with a sensation like creeping vines entangling themselves around your heart, then they tip you the cup of hemlock, but Socrates doesn't have shit on you, and you wake up the next morning to a beak ripping open your gut, and after about the hundred-thousandth time, they all start to blend together, and the young whippersnappers giving you the hemlock each night have newfangled names you can't remember, but they always smell like moldy cheese, because after the incident of '16 (that's 216 NCE) all other food sources got wiped out, and only mold provided the antibodies needed to survive in the fallout, but you grew some mutations (notably, a hand on the back of your head, and a third nipple) and the lab jerks poked and prodded you some more, while their nasty smell assaulted your senses, never abating, even after centuries of nothing else, because people don't bathe anymore, and they wear skinsuits made from the dead, ever since Zombie Gore's "Go Beige!" initiative during the Wars of Elephantine Aggression.
 
Anyone else fantasize about an iron inquisitorial spike, 12 feet long, sliding down from the floor above you and just ending it? It's weight is what makes it efficient. I get like that when watching Voyager. And being alive.
 
IF we theorise that the common splitting multiverse models are accurate (and I don't), then MAYBE you never die because any time you would've (say a failed suicide attempt) your consciousness just stayed in the universe where you survived, and you're all like, "Fuck this shit, I should've died," but what you don't know is that in most circumstances you did, and then you live for like 100 more years and you say to yourself, "I'm a hundred and twenty years old, why the fuck am I not yet deceased? Everybody else dies by the time they're 115," but then you start to realise that you're going to live forever because in some chaotic variant of the multiverse you'll randomly end up with immortality, and your agency is stuck with that shit, so a thousand years later, you're all wrinkled, crippled, and in horrid existential agony, and all the young punks are dropping Alpha Kentauric acid, but none of the fuckers will give it to you, because you've been locked in a medical research lab for the last six centuries, and every morning a huge raven comes in to peck out your liver, but every afternoon, it grows back with a sensation like creeping vines entangling themselves around your heart, then they tip you the cup of hemlock, but Socrates doesn't have shit on you, and you wake up the next morning to a beak ripping open your gut, and after about the hundred-thousandth time, they all start to blend together, and the young whippersnappers giving you the hemlock each night have newfangled names you can't remember, but they always smell like moldy cheese, because after the incident of '16 (that's 216 NCE) all other food sources got wiped out, and only mold provided the antibodies needed to survive in the fallout, but you grew some mutations (notably, a hand on the back of your head, and a third nipple) and the lab jerks poked and prodded you some more, while their nasty smell assaulted your senses, never abating, even after centuries of nothing else, because people don't bathe anymore, and they wear skinsuits made from the dead, ever since Zombie Gore's "Go Beige!" initiative during the Wars of Elephantine Aggression.

I've thought about that but it seems unlikely.
 
GOD WOULD TELL YOU YOU WERE DEAD.
 
I might know if i'm dead...
 
there wouldn't be a you to know1111
 
there is nothing on the other side.
 
Except for Rod Hull.
 
ONLY YOUR ZOMBIE KNOWS FOR SURE
 
What was he doing on the BLOODY roof!
 
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