Our Self-Written Obituaries – Q aka Srivatsan Manivannan, O.P. Jindal Global University, Sonipat
The 181st death.
[Text and photos sent by Srivatsan Manivannan]
I died. Death pleases me. I speak from the romantic afterlife, enjoying this divorce from the responsibilities of love. There exists no greater pain than of a life chained to agape – disgusting, heavy “divine” love. Love that removes hope from your sight and leaves you to settle in comfort; a love that is home. It is dangerous to spend too much time at home. You forget true desire, you forget desperation, the primary incentive for the heart.
My name was an alphabet – Q. Not many people used it. I called myself ‘they’. I had no gender, my identity was always formed in opposition. I was kind because I was afraid of cruelty, I was angry because I was wronged, and I was hungry because I was starved.
Death is meaningless to the living, no different from a lost traveler who ceases to call you, stops sending you regular “Good morning” WhatsApp forwards. In Death I am desperate, the half-life escapade from the asymptotic pursuit of definition and happiness. The lonely happiness is a frightening kind – one asks eventually, what is the worth of an unobserved life? Without witness, no testimony, a life of secret wonder. It is Death – invisibility.
Our Self-Written Obituaries invites people to write their obituary in 200 words. The idea is to share with the world how you will like to be remembered after you are gone. (May you live a long life, of course!) Please mail me your self-obit at email@example.com.