Dying, Dead

Depressed and Dying

It was 11:32 pm on a cold, wet, dreary Wednesday night and I was dying. It was just like any other routine middle of the week day where one day dragged into another, and I kept asking myself, "what day is it?"
I felt my head build with great pressure as if I were ascending quickly in a plane to 35,000 feet without ever swallowing to clear my ears. I lay on my side, unable to move as my eyes faded in and out on the fluorescent green alarm clock, across the room. There, it just turned to read 11:33. I began to lose consciousness and would wake to the numbers flickering on that old damn clock that I should have replaced years ago. Each number changed with a little addition or subtraction sign that changed so fast you could barely see them move. Tick, snap. The numbers changed again. I liked how the 4 looked with the four distinct lines, looking, glowing, smiling at me. Hello to you too, 4.

Here, I was sent off into a dreadful little town, without even a McDonald's, for mandatory training. We had finished our 5 mile run a little while ago, when I started felling weak. My clothes were drenched, as each little bead of rain slammed into my body as if they were needles being thrown into my face. I dragged myself back to my room to get some rest, as I had no energy left. I collapsed on the bed, with an instant squeak, growing from the old worn out bed frame as the old springy mattress hit it. The room began to close in on my as the walls felt like they were getting closer inch by inch every second. The dirty, off white cinder block walls, began to close in on me as I couldn't breathe any more. Everything turned black and I new it was my Time to die.

Then my mind turned into a blank white sheet hung on a wall and played scenes for me like a rolling 8mm film dancing on the wall playing a story of my life.

In all of my years i had survived being, shot, stabbed, run over by a car. As these images raced across my mind like a horse across the plains, I decided; I did not survive all these times to die like this. Oh hell no, this is not the way I would die.

Right then, I heard the door open with hinges squealing like the sound of a crying child. I yelled out, but only a whisper came. "Call 911", I pleaded.

This simple act of speaking used the last amount of strength I had, and I passed out. My world has become complete blackness.

I woke up several days later in the hospital to know that I had an infection that was tearing my body apart. The doctors had supplied me antibiotics that started to combat the raging infection. I look on the clock on the wall, one black hand on the 12, and one on the 4. "Death time" I said to Myself as it all ended.