Hit By A Bus, Death Stares In My Face And Walks Away — Day -236
There was only pain.
Couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.
My face was on the pavement.
A city bus was on top of me.
My knees are folded and pinned.
Shattering pain in my face, ripping pain in my insides, pain so intense.
Memories of my mother.
Regrets. I’m only 19 years old.
I wanted to do more. I failed the mission.
I feel it. Death is coming for me.
Everything is becoming so empty.
I’m letting. Go.
I breathe little gulps of air, like I’m drowning in pain, drowning in blood, and every little breath hurts so much.
The pain is fading.
Not much longer now.
How long have I been like this? Eyes are heavy.
Feels like darkness, feels like sinking, feels like going.
I’m almost gone.
I make one little prayer.
“God, please let me live and recover. I’ll do what You want.”
The bus is lifting.
They dragged me out.
The ambulance crew drove to the hospital.
Realistically, I should have been mangled, or paralyzed, or killed. Like 99%.
Instead, I recovered fully, having a few scars as reminders. One each side, as both my lungs ruptured, and the medical team drained my blood soaked lungs. And my jaw was shattered. And my knees feel a bit tender.
But I never recovered my sense that life is boring and meaningless.
I never recovered the possibility to sleep through life.
I’ve been awake since.
Thank you to all who supported me back then.
Thank you to my grandmother, who told me “they” had sent me back here.
My mission isn’t over.
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