"Feels like I've been here for an eternity" was the familiar line Judy would write in her numerous diary entries. Since passing on into Heaven, there was little to do after completing every book in her collection. She continued to fill the page with the details of the day:
"My grandchildren came to visit me. They had been waiting all their lives since my departure to try my famous pot roast again. It made me sad to see one of my great-grandchildren come along with them. He's far too young to be here, but he assured my husband, Alex and I, that he felt much better off here with the rest of the family. Many of his siblings and cousins remained living happy, fulfilling lives. I could swear one of the names he mentioned sounded familiar now that I write this. But it must be a similarly named junior. The one I met just hours ago was a grey, old man.
Note: Ask for a reminder of names and relations during next reunion. August 2nd." Judy had to pause in order to remember the year. She flipped back to the previous page, but August 1st had no year written either. Again, the top of the page read "feels like I've been here for an eternity". Judy didn't remember writing that. She knew it was a recurring phrase, but it struck her to find the July 31st page headed in the exact same phrase. In fact, every single page in the diary had the same line, "feels like I've been here for an eternity."
Judy closed the book and swung open the cabinet which contained the rest of her books. She traded her diary for her copy of Ray Bradbury's collected works. She wanted to take her mind off the incident and reread her favorite short story, There Will Come Soft Rains. Upon opening the first page, her heart seemed to stop. The top of the page was in her handwriting, and read "feels like I've been here for an eternity". She frantically flipped through each page, and again, all said the same. Judy threw away the book and began digging through the cabinet, pulling out every book and skimming through them like a madwoman. Page after page, book after book, "feels like I've been here for an eternity". The dates remained consistent, but never was there ever a recorded year. Every book that filled her cabinet was a completed diary, and every heading was the same: "Feels like I've been here for an eternity."
Judy did the only thing she could think to do, and prayed.
"Please, I just want to know. How long have I been here?" She recieved empty silence in response. Tears welled up in her eyes. "Will it ever end?" At the very utterance of that phrase, every light in her room was gone. Everything around her disappeared as if a chord was ripped from an outlet that powered her perception. Judy slowly walked forward with her arms outstretched, but she never felt a single obstacle blocking her way. Then she ran; ran as far and as fast as she could. Nothing impeded her. Judy screamed at the top of her lungs, but no echo traveled back. She could only percieve it from her own body, as if her ears were filled with water. Her scream simply traversed into the empty void that stretched out forever. And there sat Judy in the impercievable blackness, for an eternity unto eternity, then an eternity after that - existing forever in Heaven.
I like to strangle my pancreas to sleep