Stuck in the realm of my own memories haunting me, I reflect on my departure from the world.

From the day I was born, my demise was expected. We were told we would one day we'd wake up never to go back to sleep or go to sleep never to reawaken. We could be murdered, either by ours or someone else's destructive thoughts. We could die in a horrible crash of airplane, car, etcetera. Our lungs could run out of breath. Supposedly, we could die from accidental causes. Pfft. No one dies on accident. Death is planned...I just know it. I don't know by who, but it is.

Days passed on, days filled with the weight of the air and the taste of blood. I'm not sure how that description makes sense...but nothing makes sense anymore. My father hit the bottle and my mother hit the road. I grew to a solid six feet and three inches with golden hair and green eyes. Handsome, they called me, until the day that changed everything.

I finally let my feelings loose to a thought-to-be friend, and they immediately demanded I get in their car. My questions were answered with their silence. I felt a mix of emotions radiating off of them. Radiation is a form of energy transfer. The sun radiates various wavelengths of heat and light to the earth. Light travels at such a speed that allows it to reach the earth in four hundred ninety-nine seconds. The speed of heat from--

"We're here."

I had arrived at hell on earth. Shortly thereafter, I died of 'accidental causes.'

Pathetic.

In truth, I died from...