First day after death

I died, a year and a half ago
or more specifically, I let go of my cargo,
the baggage weighing me down
holding my head under, attempting to drown
but I held on to a still small voice
telling me I always had a choice
and so I gave in and let myself die
now I can't help but wonder why
I didn't do it sooner, all the years I've lost
finally ridding my heart of it's frost.
But the victory has not come free of charge,
no, there are still problems looming large
questions like, how do I feel?
Is this me being fake or me being real?
You see, the me who died wasn't really me
it was the me who allowed the world to be
in charge of my definition and meaning
never once attempting any reconvening
but now, now that the fakers are dead
I think it's time to place the crown on my head