This temporary place called earth.

When I was eighteen I donated my body to science. Thinking about it, being eighteen probably won’t be the year I’ll pick out as my most bright one. Now I feel a bit trapped. Maybe I should write a letter to my loved ones, tell them to toss me in the sea when it’s time for departure. Or maybe I’ll plead to Jesus to take my body too, and not only my soul. Or maybe I can find the donated-organ-register people and claim my body back? Such a modern decision, I bet my ancestors would turn in their graves if they heard me.



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