A Question of Space is Often Answered in a Matter of Time

I wouldn’t speak, even if I wanted to. I couldn’t. My lips were sealed—not metaphorically, no no, I mean in the old fashioned, literal sense.
In short, my lips were glued shut with some kind of adhesive.

My nostrils were clogged with what might or might not have been gauze or some object.
Yet I was calm.
My lungs weren’t moving, but I felt no need for oxygen, no mechanical urge to try and breathe.

On top of that, I could see everything around me.
I could see everyone around me.
Even though my eyelids were closed, sealed, probably with the same adhesive as my mouth.

I recognized many of those voices, though there were fewer than most people would expect but certainly more than I’d have thought.

Someone was talking about how I lived a good life, covering their sobs with their hands. Apparently, death just stole my breath one night, good to know, thanks, didn't notice it.
Focusing on what you have is truly wonderful, instead of obsessing over what you lack.
Please note I’m being absurdly sarcastic here, though I’ve got no way to show it. You’ll have to forgive me.
This situation is out of my control.

What was she doing here?
By 'she,' I mean my ex-wife. Guess she came to make sure this idiot was really dead this time.
Congrats, darling, you’re right, I’ll give you this round. But considering you’re staring at my corpse with the reddest eyes I’ve ever seen, let’s just say you never stopped feeling something for this pretty idiot. Well, not that pretty anymore I guess...
You win the hand, but I win the game.

There was that guy who hated me so damn much... well the feeling was mutual.
My work colleagues were there too, in a separate group. Funny thing is, I’d bet -if I had anything left- that they only know my name because it’s on the plaque of this box, which I can now confirm is, without a doubt, a coffin.

My best friend, trying to act upbeat even though the handkerchief in his pocket was soaked through, telling stories about me.
Each one more grandiose than the last.
All exaggerations. No, something worse than that, all lies.
But… thanks, man, I guess.

Oh… neighbors from the block. I can barely tell one face from another. Why were they here?
I can assure you I don’t know their names with the same certainty that they don’t know mine.
No, I didn’t always wave hello like people claim. Truth is, I don’t remember ever greeting them, not once.
And that bit about me being a good person… heh, that was waaay of long stretch.

It’s incredible how I can feel disgust even though my organs were probably removed to prevent those 'little accidents' that happen at these kind of events.

What event?
Isn’t it obvious already from everything I’ve said? This is a funeral, people, come on.
It’s the biggest party a person can have, the kind that only happens when you’re dead.

By the way, I didn’t ask for any of this, please note that okay? I’d made it clear I wanted my body burned, my ashes scattered to the wind along with all the things I should’ve done but didn’t.
Along with all the words I forgot to say, which now felt like a centipede crawling under my skin.
Though that could also just be the buildup of gases in my no-longer-functioning body.

Back to the point, I almost got sidetracked. All this makes me realize that, whether written, spoken, or sealed with a handshake, most -if not all- requests about what happens to you after you die get ignored.
Am I assuming?
Not at all. I’m in this box instead of floating off somewhere, aren’t I?

I always said if I stayed longer than I should, I’d just grab my things and leave. To be clear, I didn’t mean this, but maybe the universe, in its indifference, took me too literally.

Second by second.
Word by word.
From forced fake tears to honest ones.
Everything started looking a little farther away and the edges grew a little darker.

Guess I was on borrowed time, and that time was already running out.
That’s fine.
This whole funeral thing was getting boring anyway.
I mean, if only you could see their faces.

Even here, even now: I’m more alive than all of you.