When I woke up this morning, it was beautiful outside. There was a cold breeze, ever so slight. I turned on the TV and flicked to the news channel. The heading popped up:
BREAKING NEWS – THE WORLD IS COMING TO AN END.
I flicked off the screen with a firm press on the remote and rose to make breakfast. Science will forever be my biggest heartbreak. As much as I would have liked to believe it true, a small part of me was still skeptical.
Pacing the length of my kitchen, back and forth, I ignored the ping of heartfelt messages streaming in from my family: “you know we love you so much” or “could you please drive down? I want my last moments to be with you.”
All I wanted was to just rot away one last time, by myself, as I have always done.
The last couple of years of my life I’ve been in a cycle of trying over and over again to find a sense of self. I’ve travelled to each corner of the world and got to explore all the most beautiful and underrepresented cultures. I managed to get a tour guide to Tibet. I learned about their death rituals and sky burials.
I found it interesting that people could be so selfless.
For context, people in Tibet leave bodies on top of mountains to allow vultures to consume them. People down here closer to the ground of the sandy shores do otherwise; they are quite selfish. They store the dead away in caskets or burn them in order to keep their ashes in the diamond locket of a ring their husband gifts them—not knowing they will divorce mere months later.
If it hadn’t been obvious enough, I am not close to my family. Not by deed, but by choice. I never thought they truly understood what it was like to be me, whatever that means. I never really understood what it was like to be ‘me’ either. Funny, because up to this point, I’ve already been confined within my body for nineteen painful years. Until today, I never had to worry about death rituals or the concept of returning to nature. Sure, it’s crossed my mind how the Tibetans respected nature to such an extent, but never so much as truly considering it. Now, with the world ending, it’s a bit of a shame that I don’t have a say in how I am going to die or what happens after my death. If I am being honest, I regret not trying to plan my death sooner—like thinking about where I would want to be if I was found lifeless. What final meal to consume before death.
Luckily for me, today has already been foretold. Now, I can actually plan how I am going to get going. I initially told myself I wanted to rot in my bed again. However, reflecting that death will be much kinder than life, I realise I can do much more—anything I want—before death comes for me.
The streets are busy, people rushing to see their families just one last time, just once more before the world ceases to exist. I do not do any of these things. Instead, I decided to go swimming at the beach fully clothed. No one can stop me, nor would they care. What would they do? Die of second-hand embarrassment? Yeah, right. Personally, I feel this was too soon. But until the end of the world, I shall pull myself together until I can die with some sense of purpose in the life that I have lived.
Writer – Maria Secara
Editor – Romi Feng
Artist – Angela Wang
–June 2025–
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