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~•Zephyr•~
I used to think my death would be a quiet occasion. Where my friends, family, children, grandchildren and even arch-nemesis would attend and say good things about me when called to the podium. I expected to be old and wrinkly by the time that happened but as I fought to regain control of the car, I realized that I didn't even think my life through.

I was one of those who always thought I would die old. I didn't do anything hectic. I lived the most boring life, in fact , the most exciting I have ever done is ride a roller coaster. As I saw my life flash before my eyes, my only prominent thought was the fact that I couldn't even live a good life. My life was a lie. My boyfriend is a lie. My only regret was the fact that I didn't find someone to love me the way I loved them. I was stuck obsessing over someone who was obsessing over their dead wife.

I let go of the steering wheel as I laugh and accept my fate. Anyone watching would probably think I was a lunatic trying to commit suicide and laughing at the success of it. I wish that was what it was. Instead I'm an idiot who just realized how much of my life I spent wasted. I can't even get it back. The rod holding me up strains and groans and I start to wonder what's going to happen when I fall.

Why did I use the bridge again? Oh right, I wanted to go surprise someone who I loved. The wail of a siren startles me out of my thoughts and the rod chooser that moment to give out under the weight it's been carrying. The car slams into the water and causes me to jerk forward. The car slams against a rock and shards of glass fly carelessly.

Between the suffocating from the water and the trickling blood from my body from the shards of glass, my brain goes into overdrive on keeping calm and trying to save myself. Somewhere at the back of my mind I know this is it for me.

I clasp my neck as I struggle for hair and at the same time try to unstrap my seatbelt. All my efforts seem like I'm doing nothing as my panic makes everything seem so blurry and clouds my common sense.

My chest slams into my ribcage as I struggle for breath and life. The war between life and death is crucial and it's evident which part is winning as I continue to struggle. I soon exhaust myself and give in to death.

Would he live me now that I'm dead? If he saw me now, would he confess love to me in my dieing moment? If I asked him to lie and say the words to me... would he do so? I doubt it. After all, his last words to me was "I would never love you."

Isn't it quite fitting tho? I did say death was better that feeling the pain his words did to me. And look at me one hour later eating u my words. I still stand by what I said tho. Death is better than his words.

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