It wasn't how I imagined. I wasn't prepared. I didn't have the luxury of confessing my deepest darkest secrets on my death bed or uttering the words goodbye to my loved ones one last time. My whole existence vanished. All my dreams, my hopes, and wishes were snatched away from me with no warning.
I didn't even write a will - not that I had anything worthy of giving away. I guess my life wasn't extraordinary, I won't go into much detail, but let's just say the only exciting thing I did was graduate university (and that was a bloody struggle).
I won't be remembered in generations to come. I wasn't a hero or a villain. I didn't cure a disease, feed the homeless or create world peace. Honestly, sometimes I didn't even get out of bed.
My life didn't flash before my eyes like I had been led to believe from endless of films and books. Although, maybe it did and it was just so shit I didn't notice.
I wasted a lot of time. Anxiety does that to you though. You spend your seconds, minutes and hours worrying about wasting time - whilst the time is flying past you.
Then there's depression. You love painting? Not any more. You find comfort in reading? Don't bother. Everything you loved doing is pointless. Nothing can conjure any hint of engery or motivation from your muscles to do anything.
Have anxiety and depression? Well, good luck with that. It's hard. You obsessively worry, pacing the room. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.
Then you finally get into bed, but you can't sleep because you're not done worrying. No, not yet. Then the morning comes and it's time to start it all over again.
Don't get out of bed: sleep. For hours - no, days. Want to see your friends? Why? What's the point? Brush your teeth. if you can make it to the bathroom without wanting to sliver onto the floor and die there.
Do you look both ways before crossing the road? I stopped looking years ago... so I guess I'm to blame for all of this. I tried fighting for the first time in my life. I was fighting to live, to feel the cold air bloat my lungs. Blood filled them instead. It gurgled inside my chest.
I was drowning in my own blood. It was the most dramatic thing my body has ever done. It had finally turned against me and death had come to collect my soul.
I couldn't see anything, I guess the shiny red metal that had collided with my head had probably done that. I would say that the car came out of nowhere, but that would be a lie. The car had come out of a car park situated next to a skyscraper at exactly 6:38pm.
It was cold. The kind of cold you feel when you stick your wet arm out of warm bathwater - the icy air is now a part of your skin. Though, the smell was worse. Everything smelt burnt: rusty, iron, burnt. Oh, but it was so cold.
They had to collect pieces of my skin off the road, yet I kept on fighting. I didn’t win though, on the crumbly tarmac, I took my last breath and died.
