 I was thinking out loud to myself for the last thirty-one years about what happens after we die, and I didn't come up with any answers. I think about what it was like before I was born, and I can't remember anything, other than the quiet blackness. Maybe we just return to the giant emptiness. Maybe we float naked in the black nothingness, silent. Maybe that's what will happen after we all die. Nothing. Just return to the quiet blackness, just like it was before we got here. Maybe there won't be any memory to speak of, just still, and quiet, and black. Just like the first few moments we fall asleep before dreaming starts, or the nights we don't dream at all. Sometimes I think we think too much about it. Maybe it's not that complex. Maybe it's just black nothingness.