Are you cold? I wouldn't be surprised.
Snow flakes fall from the white sky, and you lie now, on the frozen ground. Maybe this has been used so many times that your crimson blood on the snow is no longer beautiful.
Ah yes, your blood. It covers your chest like a wet blanket, and is sprayed across the ground. It's still warm and sinks into the white earth. Your cheek which is pressed against the ground is also warm, but both are slowly getting colder.
When will someone call an ambulance? Though it would be futile, you're already dead. The moment that train hit you, you were dead. But in that split second before you died you thought many things:
I'm going to die? I will never see my family again.
Because now all you really want is to say goodbye. You never wanted to die like this; hit by a train because a stupid boy wasn't paying attention. You want to say goodbye, but now your family members and your friends will be the only ones saying goodbye.
This isn't fair.
That's is another thing you thought, just before you died. But what really isn't fair, is that the boy you saved, the boy who is now clutching your favorite black and white scarf, which is your only piece of clothing that was spared from the blood, he will commit suicide in two days, because of the guilt. So what was the point in saving him?
Another thing you thought was:
Where will I go?
Is there truly another world that you are going to go to? Are you there now? Are you there, with your deceased friends and family members? Are you living in that house that you moved away from? Or are you simply nothing? Do you wish you could somehow tell the people you knew what awaits them after they die? Do you even have any thoughts anymore?
Was it worth it?
Yes, you asked if it was all worth it. Is it worth it to live if you are just going to die? And that brings up another question that you asked:
Why are we here?
Why? You ask? I think that no one knows for sure. Maybe that reason is different for everyone. Or maybe it's to make an eternal footprint on this earth; that will never be washed away by the tide of mortality. That even if your bones rot and turn to dust, even if everyone you cared for forgets you; that footprint will stay and it will be the only thing left of you. And just maybe having something eternal of you is enough, enough to satisfy you.
I'm afraid.
Yes, you were afraid. Afraid of death, afraid of not being with your family, afraid of whatever awaits you. So afraid that you would give anything to keep living. You imagine yourself hanging from a spider's thread. Hoping that it would not break.
I am impressed that you thought all that in a split second.
Though I think that is all I have to say to you.
Wait, there is one more thing: There are people who will morn you. You should be glad. Not all people have that.
The End.
Author: I hope you enjoyed that! It wasn't too sad, was it?
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