People shuffle through life like they’ve got an expiration date printed in Comic Sans on their forehead, blissfully convinced death is some tidy future event involving caskets, urns, or at least a dramatic last breath. Meanwhile, the grim punchline is already in the rearview: you actually croaked years ago—maybe 23, maybe longer—and nobody sent the memo. That version of you? Dead as disco. The kids from grade school, the high-school sweetheart, your college roommate, even Mom and Dad in their original-edition form—they all attended your invisible funeral and moved on to the sequel without you. You’re just the ghost who didn’t get the hint, still clocking in, still paying taxes, still doom-scrolling, while the rest of eternity has already RSVP’d “nope” to ever seeing the old you again. Keep smiling though; it’s adorable how convincingly the corpse thinks it’s still on the guest