Suddenly, I had to catch my breath, I arose from my pillow trembling and stunned from a nightmare. My heart thumping incessantly against my chest. Sweat drops were streaming from my face. I gazed at the fan whirring above me and then to the flayed walls that surrounded me. I turned to the light that begged to come in from a drawn shade, half-drunk alcoholic bottles, and an uncapped night time sleep aid on my counter. It was oh so familiar: the perpetual nightmares, the same ceiling fan whirring sluggishly above me, the alcohol I used to drown my sorrows in and the pills. I was weary of the depressing ambience. I couldn’t wake up to this another night. Under my breath, while using a finger to wipe the crust from the corner of my eye I muttered "how will I ever get out of this labyrinth?"

              I sauntered outside my room to the living room, grabbed a diet coke from the fridge, swiped a Malborne cigarrete and a lighter from the counter, and stepped out the door. I perched on the stairway leading to the mahogany door and lit a cigarette. As I drew the nicotine in, I started to ponder on the quickest and most painless way to take my life. after much contemplation and weighing of options, I came to a decision. I hurled the cigerette on the ground, stepped on it till I was certain I put it out, twisted the door ****, and slammed the door behind me. I unbuckled my belt as I walked into my room, climbed atop my bed, fastened the belt around my neck and hung it to that same sluggish fan. Who knew it will be the death of me? I took my last deep breath, then took a step forward without hesitation. There was a sudden grasp around my neck, and a shriek came bursting out from the tightness of my throat. I found myself six inches above the ground begging for air, waving my arms in an awkward motion as though that will somehow save me. My soul was slipping away from its body. I could feel it. I could feel a separation, and even though I had always been skeptic about whether we have souls or not, this last few minutes cleared every doubt. It was departing, that unfathomable thing within us that we sometimes describe as light or as the Hindus call it "I" was departing from its home. Everywhere slowly turned dark, even though my eyes were bulging outside its sockets. And Just before I embarked on a journey atop the coach of death, a muffled scream brought air back to my lungs and sent electric shocks through my body.

            Suddenly, there was another urge to catch my breath. I arose from an unfamiliar bed with no fan whirring above me. The walls were cream white, no half-drunk alcoholic bottles laying on their sides. But there were pills in a transparent bottle. Myriads of them stacked neatly in a cabinet. It took me a while to realize I was laying on a hospital bed. It also took me a while to discern a hand clutching firmly to mine. I turned my head slowly to my sisters cried out eyes fixed on me.