I knew I was in trouble. I thought when I committed suicide that it would all end. There would be nothing. No more pain, no sorrow, no existence. Blissful oblivion. Instead I found myself in this room. White. It was like being inside of giant ping pong ball. The walls, floor and ceiling seemed to blend into each other and were all distant.

There was a man seated on a tall chair behind a podium with a large book on it. Behind him was the biggest set of doors I’ve ever imagined. He was concentrating on writing something in the book. As I walked up to him he looked up. “Oh. It’s you. He’ll see you now.”

“Who will see me?” I asked.

“Why God, of course.” The doors behind him opened and inside was darkness. At the far end was a shaft of light and in the light, a desk. A small stool sat in front and behind it was a huge chair, facing away from me. I walked to the stool and sat down.
I waited for what could have been seconds or weeks.