Minutes before Death

They say that minutes before you die, your entire life flashes before your eyes- it isn’t like that. 

At least for me. When my head hit the concrete floor, I couldn’t hear anything. My world looked like it was crumbling down, going all haywire because I was knocked off and…nothing. The last thing I could remember is the hard knock that resulted from the impact of the collision, and the last word that I uttered in my head is, “Fuck.”

My dad was the kind of person who would scare the hell out of me with tragic accident stories. It wasn’t the gruesome details nor the sad ending that result in my cautious nature. It was the look in my father’s eyes, and the real possibility of what he says happening that really freaked me out. He’d always warn me about head injuries- their fatality and their ability to destroy lives in a matter of minutes. And there I was, lying on the ground, hurting and afraid. What went through my mind wasn’t the good times that I potentially had to leave behind, nor the regrets of the things that I never got to do. It was the people I loved, and how they would react if they knew what had happened.

They say that minutes before you die, everything becomes a kaleidoscope of colours- it isn’t like that. 

At least for me. As I laid there, everything was pitch black. All I could feel was the throbbing pain, and the burden of what had happened lays on top of you, suffocating you. I couldn’t even hear my own breathing, I only could hear voices- many different voices telling me what I should do, what was my current condition and status, instructions to each other. I started to panic. My breathing got faster, my tears just kept rolling down, and I was starting to lose sensation in both my hands.

They say that minutes before you die, you remember the people that are most important to you- it isn’t like that. 

At least for me. Maybe because there’s no one particular person I hold extremely dear to my heart at this juncture of my life. Sure, my family, my bestest and closest friends. And I guess its because humans are so self-centered and selfish, the only things that ran through my head was if my written diaries would be found, uncover all my secrets that I never once told, or saying goodbye to people I never really even said Hi to.

They say that after you come back to life, everything that happened goes by in a blur- it isn’t like that. I spent my entire day replaying all the events, and all the things that have happened. It felt like a dream, but I know it isn’t because my head still hurts pretty damn much, and because I can remember everything. It comes back in bits and pieces, but things like that stick with you for a while.

I’m just glad to be alive and typing this.