Lost Somewhere in Hell
Dear Mr. Death, Anubis, Xolotl, Lucifer, Hades, or whoever this may concern,
I need your help, I did not consider that I would ever be in such a grim situation. And only you possess the means to help me in my distress.
Give me my life back.
Give me that mortality and fragility that I now yearn for. I did not realize that I would ever miss the existence of my imperfections. Give me my world, and all the love, hate, charity, disgust, compassion, jealously, brotherhood, prejudice, and ideas that come with it. That place where thoughts are not confined, not bound to this law of perdition.
I have no way of knowing whether you receive letters of this nature frequently or if this is the first of this sort, but do not discard this letter nor dismiss my words. For I carry upon my back a will strong enough to break the gates of hell, a cause righteous enough to stand before the Almighty, and a burden heavy enough to drown even the purest of men into never ending turmoil of guilt-ridden agony. The pain has been overwhelming, so I have devised a ploy not just as means to an end, but to set all things right.
Never in my days could I imagine death having struck one such as myself in the peak of my youth and knowledge. It is somewhat ironic, really, for I had nothing to fear except death itself. In comparison, fear of anything else but death is pointless. Whereas with any fear but death, regardless of consequences there shall be a continuation of one's self. There is another opportunity presented to stand up and press forward. As I came to find out first hand, death gives no second chances. Death offers no forgiveness nor spares any mercy. Though I had searched extensively, there are no loop holes or shortcuts or anything.
The idea which I present before you is simple: Give me my life back. I was too young to die, and I bore the weight of unfinished business. I do not ask this because I died before traveling the world, before ever making love to a woman, or before repenting of all my sins. I ask this because there are a great many things that were not done that make me feel as though I did not complete my purpose.
I never was able to have my stepmother understand how I feel about her, and regardless of how much I disliked her I truly was grateful for what she did.
I didn't take the time to express my love for those friends who saved me from an equally awful hell.
My knees didn't spend enough time keeping me grounded so I could pray to God. My eyes did not read as many pages from the good book as I had hoped.
The relationship I had with my brother only existed through something I no longer had access to.
I will never know whether the career and path of learning I sought was truly the dream I was chasing after.
To be able to feel completely healthy would not happen, or getting over the constant illness.
All of the problems I caused for so many people that one night, and I never got around to fixing them or making it up to the people.
I never was able to tell the woman who always challenged the world that I loved her. I never had the audacity to tell her even once how beautiful I thought she was in every aspect.
There. Do you now understand how much I would be willing to give up to finish these? I am eager to offer up any limb I have, any sense I possess, I will even work for you for 500 years just to be able to have another chance. Ideally, I would love to be brought back to life, but I understand that there are some limits to your power and influence over such things. As long as I can accomplish what I need to so I can fulfill my purpose then I will be more than content with that.
Death was the only thing I had to fear, and now it's the only thing I cannot overcome. That is the reason for this letter. That is the reason of me asking you in such a manner. This death is the ultimate limit. There is no transcending of it at all.
Once more, as a broken and humble man, I beg and implore you: give me my life back.