Bright.
Noticeable.
Lights.
Laying in the hospital bed being pushed around by screaming doctors. The IV rushing fluids into my bloodstream. The fuzziness of the lights as I slightly open my eyes.
Fast.
Running.
Doctors.
Am I dying? I definitely am dying. No I can't, I'm too young to die! I can't die.
But I can.
I'm old enough to die.
I can't choose when I die.
The operating room is cold, and smells like it's too clean. The anesthesia slowly drowns me in a sleep like stage.
Am I dying?
I am living through the thought of dying.
The ventilator is keeping me from dying.
The anesthesia has caused me to die.
I'm not waking up.
I'm not alive.
I am dead.

© Regan