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A Delicate Machine
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"No. Maybe? I don't - does 'I'm scared shitless of the alternative' count as a yes?" Cass laughed a bit as they finished their sentence, tired and desperate and the first time they had actually laughed at anything ever since they had woken up on the island, a realization that sent them that much closer into hysterics. They thankfully caught themself at the precipice of echoing Jae and Vanessa at the roof's edge; regaining control of their breathing in a miracle of concentration after only a few moments of laughter.

Ha! Existential dread. Definitely one way to help keep yourself awake. They was kind of confused by Jae's comment of finding comfort of equating sleep and death, but at least he didn't seem to buy into it either? Everything else was kinda... a lot to unpack.

"Like, my parents are both agnostic and so I wasn't really ever like, exposed to it as a kid, and now that I'm older I've just, never really felt the need to believe in shit? But I mean, I also wasn't planning on dying this early, so." Another harsh laugh.

It wasn't as if Cass had anything against religion. Marco was some flavor of Christian, and he admitted that he'd mostly just been raised that way, but even then they had still seen it bring him comfort over the years, to think that there was some sort of reason behind everything beyond the fucked up whims of nature and humanity bringing indiscriminate beauty and tragedy to all within their reach. It still seemed... alien. Like the majority of the world could just feel something Cass couldn't. Hadn't been the first or only thing to make them feel defective, but it was hard to escape.

"But like, if we all get reborn like you're saying, is it still us? Like, how much of me is like, intrinsic to my soul or whatever and how much of me is my family and my friends and my country and my probably fucked up brain chemistry that makes me feel sad and empty most of the time?"

...They hadn't exactly meant to say that last part. The more tired Cass was, the harder it became to keep their thoughts and their words separate once they started talking.
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I know my soul's freezin', Hell's hot for good reason · The Hunting Cabin