For me, it would probably look a lot like heaven.

I’m not quite sure, but the idea of everything I’ve ever wanted just slightly out of reach would drive me crazy.

All the time to write and think, but maybe there another author that already wrote the story beautifully.

Endless sunsets and thunderstorms, but on the horizon where I wasn't.

Coffees and huge open fields for frisbee, but no one to share them with.

Someone who loved me for me, but maybe only the good parts.

Everything you could ever want, but only temporarily or just hovering in front of you. Right beyond your grasp. So no matter how much you tried, no matter how much you wanted something, you could never have it.

Eventually, I'd be lonely. With only the reason I wanted more. And how selfish that would sound. Perhaps I wouldn't know I was in hell, and I'd justify to myself that this was heaven, a perfect utopia. And I should be greatful to be here. And soon I'd be fighting against myself inside my head. Until the only demons around me, were my thoughts.

(This turned into a vent. If you think that I'm saying complete bullshit, (profanity haha) do what you want. If you don't like the profanity, I suggest that you don't read this.)

My hell...

.

.

.

.

.

Is my existance

My hell is having to deal with every sick fuck in my life. Having to deal with people who don't even realize that they're toxic. People who think that they're life is so bad. That they never get a break and that they have it so bad when they clearly don't pay attention to shit. The last time that I tried to take a fucking mental health day the person that said they don't get a break desided to take adgantage of that and gan up on my girlfriend with two other people. If I didn't fucking exist none of the shit that has happened, wouldn't have happened. Depression, Anxiety, fucking suicide thoughts. There I fucking said it. I'm another one of those depressed ass internet kids. I tried to keep all this shit off of this account but look what fucking happened but I guess that's my own fault. This is one of the reasons why my life is a living hell. I can never open up to people because I get shoved off or told that they have it worse and I should comfort them. Nobody exept three motherfucking poeple care and they know who they are. They knew that I was depressed and gave a fuck and actually expressed it. I never get a break, I'm a complete jackass, people don't give a fuck, and I hate myself. That's my fucking hell.

At the bottom of a sweat drenched chair,

a room dimly lit,

filled with bugs of all kinds.

I cannot escape because

nothing better lies ahead for me,

isolated from peers and friends,

Nothing permanent.

Engaged with Hell

for far too long,

entirely at fault.

Diet for destruction.

And after

full I

cannot help but ask for more

So much uncertainty.

I must calm it.

Stuck in a cycle

with repeated lessons to learn

over and over again

until understanding is discerned

slipping down a spiral

a Gordian knot to unbend

created from your own making

until you finally divine...

to ascend.

there’s a word that comes to mind

when i think of the things i must do

and the things i haven’t done.

it lingers in my skull.

it tastes of panic.

reminds me of loss before it happens.

i can’t tell if it makes me move

faster or if it stymies me.

is the fear of transience the end of me

before i can even begin?

there is a hunger to do more

be more;

and yet, i’m frozen in place.

i’ve gone and chained myself

to the walls of the cave.

and i’m afraid that this is all i’ll ever be.

that i’ll have seen the source of shadows

i’ll have seen the light of day.

but in the end, i’ll have to look away.

because where i end and greatness begins

is volatile in its intensity

and maybe it will be the last thing i ever see.

Trapped.

No way in,

And no way out.

Without thought

And without color.

Encompassed by

Nothing.

Hell is written in many ways, none of which occur in the bible prior to 450AD. The torment of the eternal conscious (TEC, Google it ) is questioned by reputable Christian scholars.

I believe that Hell comes after death, looking like a bright red car. In more metaphysical terms, Hell is the ultimate branding of our character. How might we understand this?

Pullman says it best when he likened personality to being followed by personal familiars, small animals that change to reflect our character. Should a child feel brave, their animal becomes aggressive and large. Cowardly? A mouse now seems more apt. An adult’s familar in comparison cannot change its shape despite their movements in mood. An adult’s character, like their familiar, becomes fixed in one form.

The finality of character for an adult stems from the proportion of time they have lived.

Time is experiential. One second for a one second baby is its entire experience of life. One minute for a baby of ten minutes is 10% of its life.

But those reference points of time do not increase in perfect proportion. Instead they are expontential. Because one year for a ten year old is 10% of their life, two years for twenty-year-old should be 10% as well. Yet the twenty-year-old experiences their ‘10%’ of life as moving quicker.

Knowing this, what might be the half-way point for an average Western life? Let’s say 80 years old, with no ‘anti-socialist’ health care issues in this example.

Not forty.

Try seven years old.

The experience that comes to define your character for life is mostly lived prior to being seven years old. By that age you will be defined by the bravery or courage you exhibited, the virtue or vice you have embrace. Psychological models in 2020, both Jungian and behaviourist, will confirm this statement, that how you have lived by seven years old will be determine your character for the rest of your days.

Knowing this, it should be clear that Hell is simply the inability to change your character after death. Whatever human consciousness that might live on after death, regardless of whether it has human interests, will suffer the knowledge that it is impossible to change its character, even with those few good deeds committed in later life.

This is where our Western concept of a midlife crisis comes to help us. Most people see a midlife crisis as the mere upgrading to a younger car, and perhaps partner. Yet a profound change, a paradigm shift is our potential miracle. The Catholic confession, the hallucinogenic vision, the all-in Wall Street Bet if that’s your belief - they all grant us that seismic shift that might in one moment define us more than all the discipline of a life well-led before. Only a midlife crisis can change our characters after seven years old and grant us reprieve from the Hellish knowledge of an eternity to be as we have always been.

It is then a shame I cashed my change on that bright red car.

You can’t even imagine real hell. You can’t do that. No one is capable of that. Hell is such a painful place that you will answer with fire for the shameful deeds you have done in this world, for the pictures of naked women (men) you have seen!

You are responsible for every food and bread given to you, for water, for air, for life! A hot pot is waiting for you in hell. There you will be burned up, and you will be tormented. You will die, but you will rise again! You feel a sharp pain!

Don’t you believe me? Are you laughing at me? Laugh, because you don’t believe in these things! I know you are a man of the modern world! But I can convince you! Now think about it!

Why are you helping people? Why? Is it for pleasure and enjoyment, to live in paradise after your death!

So, aren’t there people doing bad things in this world? Criminals, adulterers, prostitutes! Who will punish them? Answer is hell! Why do you rejoice for the good you have done, and not be punished for the sins they have committed? Can you answer that question? No, you can’t answer! Because you don’t want to admit it! But all I say is true! The conclusion is from you ...