Oblivion. Not the same as death, but close. Death is picky, it takes only the dead. Oblivion doesn't care.
I'm hanging on the edge of the cliff, the yawning pit of oblivion beneath me, death at the bottom. Half of me is already gone. Plus my heart, lungs and my whole digestive system. Instead they're replaced by pain. It hurts to breathe, to eat. There's pain where my heart was, before.
I grab an Advil of my bedside table and pop it in my mouth. It doesn't help with the pain, nothing helps with that, but it let's me sleep, without the nightmares. Of the crash. Of losing her.
But I have to keep going. Keep living. She'd never forgive me if I let go, let myself fall. So I keep going.
I'll never understand death, why it choses who it chooses, and when. Why it chooses the good ones. Because it should have been me. Why didn't it choose me?
