Authors Note- Hello and welcome to my first story! Yes it's a self insert. Don't hate me; I already hate me enough for even trying it. I have no idea where this story is going but its been running circles in my head for a while now. I will try to keep everyone as in character as possible. If I mess something up feel free to bash my head in. This story has been greatly influenced by the story Dreaming of Sunshine. I highly recommend it. Its good, well thought out and, interesting. I can only hope for this story to be half as good as that one. But alas this note has turned to a letter so without further ado here is the story.

Chapter 1- Gone

"Life goes on as I'm fading away," Untitled- Simple Plan

It was weird; my death and funeral. The whole week had been a little wonky. Usually I would work afternoons and evenings but this week I had gotten a lot of mornings, as well as work on Friday. I had only had work on Friday twice before; once when a coworker had been injured, and once when a coworker was sick, which was why this Friday was so weird.

No one was sick or hurt; the schedule just said I had a shift. The morning was like any other: I got dressed, had coffee, forgot breakfast, and piled into the car with the rest of my family.

My step-father was on time, and picked me up on his way home from it was Friday so we weren't going straight home. Instead we headed toward my father's house to pick up my brothers for the weekend. We never made it. The truck hit us fast and hard, and I almost wished I had died on impact.

Instead I went to the hospital and was stuck in a coma for a week before passing on. That week was scary. Sometimes I would hear people talking and, sometimes all I would hear was a continuous beeping. My thoughts were fragmented and panicky.

The worst part was when it hurt. There was so much pain all over my body. It pricked me from my toes to the tips of my hair. Rational thought was impossible as the pain corrupted my sense of logic. And I couldn't move.

I couldn't complain and tell people I was in pain. I couldn't scream and, as much I hate to admit it I couldn't cry either. By that point I would have done almost anything to make the pain go away. The pain never leassoned, but over time my body adjusted. It registered the pain as familiar and continued to try to work.

I was like a soldier that couldn't feel their wounds; I would continue to fight until I collapsed from blood loss. Eventually the pain, just as every other thought, slowly faded to the background of my being.

The cold started in my toes and fingers but it spread to other areas quite fast. Fall had always been my favorite season. I love the cold and the multicolored leaves. This was different. It wasn't a bad cold or a good cold. It was just cold, numbing.

I surrendered to the cold because it was familiar, safe. After that there was just nothing. No feelings, no conscious thought. The next thing I knew I was watching my family and friends all gathered together on a sunny summer day.

There are two things about that last statement that really made it all sink in. My friends didn't like my dad too much, but there they were comforting the grieving man. I turned to the freshly dug hole and watched the Rabbi's pray as they lowered a casket- my casket into the ground.

And I understood I was dead. It was a little frightening that I didn't really fight the thought of being dead. I loved my friends and my family, I would truly miss them, but that's as far as my grieving could go.

Loud sobbing disturbed my thoughts as I tried to pinpoint the sound. My older sister had always been a bit of a crybaby. I felt bad about dying, about leaving them. She had finally found a way to be happy, and here I was dying and ruining her happiness.

God that sounded weird, even to me. Speaking of god I wondered where he was. I had grown up a religious Jew and the thought of God not existing was kind of weird. If He didn't exist what was I supposed to do now?

Although I guess it makes sense that He wasn't there. He can't be greeting every newly dead soul. In fact did I even have the right religion? You'd think you would figure something like that out when you died but here I was with absolutely no clue.

With my speculative thoughts as my only companion I slowly drifted. I say drifted because I have no idea where I was. A few times I could have sworn I was at my dad's house as people came to give their condolences. But then I was at my mother's viewing the same thing.

Was I teleporting? That's kinda cool. Or at least it would have seemed more interesting if I wasn't, you know, dead. I couldn't really keep track of the time, but the images of people comforting my family just started to blend into each other after a while. As time went on I started getting tired.

At the tender age of nine I had begun suffering from insomnia. It used to get so bad I would be living day to day life with only three or four hours of sleep, give or take a little. So as a recovering insomniac I never liked passing up a chance to sleep.

And the warmth that engulfed me every time I closed my eyes was so enticing. The periods of time that my eyes stayed firmly shut grew and grew until my sleeping mind was but one of many as I embraced the warmth.

It's hard to notice something disappear when you have so many, especially when no one alive knew of my continued existence. My thoughts became slow and garbled as I slowly but surely faded from my world.

A/N Thanks for reading, every bit of feedback is appreciated. I hope you enjoyed!


Signing Out