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The Process of Dying
The candles were running low and I counted the seconds under my breath. Light was glowing around me and the night was starting to crawl on my back as the light dimmed considerably.
I continued to count, even though I wanted to stop. But i had to, i had to, I had to...
Suddenly I felt the warm, sticky breath on the back of my neck. For a moment I lingered before turning around, but I knew it was now or never.
My body turned around slowly, twirling the cold, stale air along with it. Before me was a grey figure with a grimace of pain on his face.
I could feel his deathly presence begin to slither around me, compress my shaking legs together. My bones moved, reshaping my body to a curved "S". But i remained calm on the outside.
Death was becoming apart of me now. It was becoming my blood, my heartbeat, my breathe. This had to be done, there was no other way.
The man in front of me was now smilng in happiness, i think. Either way, I could see that this process was coming to an end and so was my life.
"Don't worry, they won't miss you," the man rasped.
I held back the tears. As my vision closed in on me I nodded. I knew that no one would miss me. Everyone would probably shrug at my death and look away.
I only wish I could do the same.
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"Giving will ultimately make you happier in life. It is rewarding for you to brighten up someone's day." -Anonymous