A Sad Girl's Memorial

This is Girl speaking. The following an extract of something I wrote during fall, 2023. It was never a serious project. I just imagined what it would be like if my dog wrote a letter to wolves. I am no longer satisfied with how I ended it. There is not much more to say about it. "Dear wolves,  I am descendant of wolves. My great, great, great grandparents spent their entire lives in the woods, until one day Uncle Pau got hurt badly and had to seek shelter. In his desperation of survival, he met one of another species, kinder than the long-tailed prankster who lived in the trees. The strange creature pointed at himself and said: “Aman.” A man, Uncle Pau thought. A man washed Uncle Pau’s bruises and kept him warm. It seemed like A man had limitless food, because Uncle Pau kept being fed fresh meat, without ever having to put in any work for it. This must be paradise , Uncle Paul thought, reminded of the tales he was told as a pup, about a world free from suffering. He was eager to g...

This is Girl speaking, short for Sad Girl. I might as well be blabbing into a void, but I would argue that a void has still granted the right to know why it is being disturbed, so that is exactly what I am doing. Answering questions such as what is a sad girl´s memorial anyway? And why am I gathered here today? The answer is quite simple: Death and the fear of being outrun by it. I understood the concept of death quite early on, 3 years old to be exact, despite what some psychologists will claim about children´s ability to think in abstract terms. I knew it was a permanent loss, that nothing could reverse it, and that all ones’ functions would be gone with it. That as long as I was thinking, I would still be. So, I thought, a lot, about what the next second would bring me, if I would even be there to experience it. It would keep me up at night because I feared that sleep would push me closer to it , so close that I would never hear from morning birds again. So, instead of resting my mi...