Nina's reaction to Kayla's death was “Oh.” Like if you were looking at the obituaries in the paper and you see someone you know, so you go, “Oh.”
She thought she should feel more, feel as though she had a hand in her death. But that wasn't the case. Nina didn't know if there was another soul on Earth who could see Buddies, but even if she were the only one, that didn't make her qualified to give others advice on living. A poor person doesn't go to their poor neighbor for twenty bucks, and a suicidal person doesn't go to someone who once attempted suicide but would still be okay with dying.
Dying.
The word sounded different now.
In the week leading up to Kayla's funeral, Nina spent a lot of time lying in bed, thinking about death, wondering what it felt like to be dead, imagining a world where she was dead. Her things were sold off, her apartment gained a new tenant, and everybody who knew her was like, “Man, I can't believe she's really gone.”
In a way, neither could Nina. She knew this was coming, yet she still felt...it impacted her in some way. It was like watching your grandfather die of cancer in a hospital. You know he's going to die one day sooner or later, but when you get that phone call, you can't help but break down. You knew it was coming, and yet
Nina didn't break down. Instead, she thought. And wondered. She heard a quote somewhere once before. It went something along the lines of, “We're born, and then we die. So then is it better to have never been born at all?”
A baby is born, grows up, and spends most of his career as a salary worker to provide for his family and children. And when he dies, his friends and their family will cry, but he'll have left behind a house and a car and a photo album and other assorted trinkets whose only value comes from the value they gave it, like a five-year-old treasuring a rock they found on the beach. But his nextdoor neighbors probably won't attend his funeral, and the housewife he volunteered with at a beach cleanup four months ago probably doesn't remember who he is.
A baby is born, but if he dies before his first birthday, he's contributed nothing to society. Yet his parents will cry at his passing, and they'll memorialize him in a picture frame on the wall or on the back of their car. And sometimes, when they're alone at home and the crickets aren't making a sound, they'll think of their baby and they'll cry, and they're the only ones in the whole world who will cry for this life that never realized it was alive.
So then, is it truly better to never have been born at all?
Nina wanted to know. She really wanted to know. Perhaps knowing is the only thing keeping her from pulling the trigger.
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