A modern sherpa’s handbook to love or something like that
an excerpt

Where do our feelings, thoughts and emotions go when we die? Where do they disappear too? I strain to hear a whisper from the grave. Perhaps catch a flutter of sentiment on the breeze. But I hear nothing. I feeling nothing except with what I came with. A mixture of confusion and hopelessness and sadness. All fighting in my belly and my brain although my heart has always known the answer.

Dying puts an end to all of this, this feeling. Our emotions stop breathing after we do. Then all that’s left is the body. Devoid of anything except stillness. From everything comes nothing.

These terrible whirlpools pulling me at this moment will calm and settle when my veins stop pumping blood. The evaporation of sentiments will happen whenever I go. So I may as well try to live with them now. Life without feelings would be death.

It turns out I’m one of the living. The weight of the emotional backpack is making sure I know this.