when im laid out on that table, i hope im pretty. i hope whoever drains my veins sees something i never will. hiding my flaws, making me prettier than i ever could be in life. but they do not need to be thorough with preparing my body for its rest in the dirt. really, i would prefer the opposite.

do not honor me with embalming. there is no need to preserve what is already dead and rotting. after all, there is something beautiful about decay. when time and the earth have stripped away my flesh, and all thats left is my bones, maybe then i’ll feel okay.