The third time I died
Today I died for the third time.
The feeling that someone was continuously squeezing my heart was replaced with a sharp pain that was associated with a major blow to the same area.
It was bad, even though I was expecting it and praying for it, because the reason was right. Dying means peace to most people, but for me I sincerely hope that I would never find that peace for a long, long time to come. I would rather feel as alive as before this third death of mine.
Folks, I don't think I will write about dying for the forth time (I would probably be eternally unconsious that time). I don't think I am that blessed.
The first time I died, I was inside my mother's womb, so I was told. I was supposed to be already dead and the doctors were taking me out from my mother three months before I was due. Well, somehow, an old doctor revived me. That was the miracle from God that gave me life.
The second time was at a hospital, I was 16, lasted a little less than 10 minutes. That was a miracle from God that changed my life. (from relatively evil to relatively good, relatively speaking of course)
This third time was a metaphorical death that marked the end of a miracle from God that reminded me of living,... and live I will.
The fourth time, well... I will have to find out when the time comes.
The feeling that someone was continuously squeezing my heart was replaced with a sharp pain that was associated with a major blow to the same area.
It was bad, even though I was expecting it and praying for it, because the reason was right. Dying means peace to most people, but for me I sincerely hope that I would never find that peace for a long, long time to come. I would rather feel as alive as before this third death of mine.
Folks, I don't think I will write about dying for the forth time (I would probably be eternally unconsious that time). I don't think I am that blessed.
The first time I died, I was inside my mother's womb, so I was told. I was supposed to be already dead and the doctors were taking me out from my mother three months before I was due. Well, somehow, an old doctor revived me. That was the miracle from God that gave me life.
The second time was at a hospital, I was 16, lasted a little less than 10 minutes. That was a miracle from God that changed my life. (from relatively evil to relatively good, relatively speaking of course)
This third time was a metaphorical death that marked the end of a miracle from God that reminded me of living,... and live I will.
The fourth time, well... I will have to find out when the time comes.
posted by Soy Milk at 9:10 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home