“Think outside the box if you want to be a great writer” that’s what they said and that, I did. Few days ago, I thought outside the box and I ended up here, in a different box, the wrong box, the one no one likes to think about, the box you’ll end up in if you’re caught with a ballot box (another wrong box), I’m sure by now you can guess the box.

One day, sooner or later, (hopefully later) we’ll find ourselves in the wrong box and there’ll be no way out, no words can be spoken anymore, no more choices or opinions, you’re there but you are not there. For those of you who feel dead every now and then, this is quite different, this is the real deal; you don't know how dead you feel until you're dead for real. When I’m dead, my Will will distribute my assets but this article will state the opinions and choices I will not be able to make.

To whom it may concern,
When I’m dead, let my grave be 7feets deep. One extra ‘feet’ for all the feats I achieved.

When I’m dead, make my grave site a chess park. I could never stay quiet when I watch others play. I'd be left with no choice.

If you’re ever going to assassinate me, at least have a reason, a good reason; So that it’ll be said that I died for something, for something good.

When I’m dead, make sure a woman reads my biography. They are full of lies maybe this way I could force one to say the truth.

When I’m dead, after every other important detail has been engraved on the grave stone, end with "XO" because I love kisses and hugs and can never have enough of them and because I love signing my love letters with X’s and O’s but mostly because all my exes were hoes but I still miss them.

On the magazine and bills, don’t put “gone too soon,” use “gone too late” instead; I lived life as a late comer. I was born late, I was always late for appointments and lectures and I’m pretty sure I’ll die late too. (to further confirm if I’m a late comer, ask my wife).

To those who will attend the funeral,
When giving your tribute, don’t try to be nice, I’d really appreciate an honest tribute. You hated me, no need to pretend now, there’s no one to give you “the Bob look” anymore.

Don’t cry for too long, although it may look like a departure down here, up there, it’s a reunion of gods.

Don’t judge me, or the life I lived, or even the cause of death, except you have a law degree with 15years working experience.

To my daughter(s), I don’t care the intensity of your sexual intercourses; I’m still your Daddy, dead or not! I’d snap your boyfriend’s neck from up here if you ever call him Daddy.

To my sons, don’t let the silver spoon choke you and don’t let masculinity imprison you.

To my main piece, I have so much love for you, more than the devil has sinners. You know I’m a man of the night, so when I’m dead I get to be with the stars, whenever you miss me, just look up.

To my side piece, I try to please you every time but I’m not Pornhub. Goodbye.

To the crush who never said yes, you killed me, at least a part of me, the part that yearned for your love but never got a chance.

To you!
When I’m dead, send flowers. If you don't want to die before me, comment flowers.