THIS IS WHAT YOU WANTED, RIGHT? THIS IS THE MONUMENT TO YOUR OWN INDIFFERENCE, YOUR OWN SELF-ABSORPTION. YOU GET TO SPEND FOREVER, PICKING APART EVERYTHING YOU’VE EVER THOUGHT, EVER DREAMT, EVER FELT. IT’S ALL ABOUT YOU. YES, YOU! YOU GET TO READ ALL THE MEMOIRS NO ONE EVER WROTE ABOUT YOU BECAUSE NO ONE THOUGHT YOU WERE IMPORTANT ENOUGH TO WRITE ABOUT, INCLUDING YOU. THIS IS THE WET DREAM OF THE SELF-AGGRANDIZING YET LAUGHABLY UNMOTIVATED, THE WIDTHDRAWN SELF-AWARE. IT’S JUST YOU, FOREVER AND EVER, AND THE BEST PART IS, YOU’RE STILL NOT ACCOUNTABLE!

YOU KNOW WHERE LIMBO COMES FROM? THE CONCEPT, I MEAN. THE LIMBO OF THE FATHERS WAS AN AFTERLIFE FOR GOOD PEOPLE WHO DIED BEFORE THE RESURRECTION OF CHRIST. IT WAS A WAITING ROOM FOR THE FAITHFUL. THAT’S NOT SUCH A BAD DEAL TO YOU, IS IT? SURE, YOU’RE STUCK HERE IN THIS NOTHING, THIS REALM OF INFINITE POSSIBILITY BUT NONEXISTENT CAPACITY, BUT IT’S A COMFORT TO KNOW THAT YOU’RE NOT THE ONE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR BEING ABLE TO LEAVE. YOU’RE WAITING ON SOMEONE ELSE! IT’S JUST LIKE HOW YOU LIVED, ONLY NOW, YOU HAVE AN EXCUSE NOT TO DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT. HOW’S THAT FOR AN AFTERLIFE?