I look at the corpses that come in at night and find myself wondering what their stories were. Did they come from a big family? Were they prosperous? Were they a grandparent of 10? Was there a time in there life that they were so depressed they wished to be here?
I look at them and can’t help but think how dead they look. That must sound ridiculous to those who aren’t in the business. I am accustomed to dealing with two stages of death. Either I am cutting them open, which makes the deceased more like a piece of meat, or an anatomy lesson. Or I am embalming them, making them greater and more beautiful than when they were alive. Seeing nothing but dead, useless bodies is a little strange. I think working nights is starting to finally get to me. I don’t feel the release at work I used to. I might as well work stock at a retail store.
My life feels flatter than usual... boring. Displeasure and something dark is bubbling below the surface. I need to do something to calm that and make my life more interesting.
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