I used to think that near death experiences were overrated. It just seems to me that the sensory overload couldn't possibly take place in such a short time-frame. The process of dying was something that my mind simply couldn't fathom. How much can you really remember when you're dying? Is the pain you feel mental or is it simply the force with which your soul is being ripped apart from your body that makes it an intense physical journey? Does one even know when they're dead? Do you really have all your memories played before your eyelids like a cinema reel that just can't wait to hit that final frame?

I had answered all these questions sooner than I had thought, and it was all because I let go of someone when I should've held on tighter.

It had been the longest five seconds of my life.

The blinding lights came out of nowhere, impairing my vision as if to spare my eyes from seeing the tragedy that would soon befall me. The moment my body made contact with the vehicle, it made sickening cracking sounds; like tiny explosions happening all over my body. I knew that there was no way I could ever recover from that. There was only so much that a human body could handle, no matter how tough I thought I was. And I had high standards of myself.

The force of the impact sent me flying across the street, and all I could manage to focus on was the man I left behind at the sidewalk. I remembered every detail of his painfully handsome face; his warm hazel eyes that always seemed to capture the sun's essence in them, his messy dark hair that I longed to curl my fingers into, his sharp pointy nose that contrasted with his bubbly personality, his rosy seductive lips that I was so eager to taste. I regretted not getting the opportunity to kiss them. What wonders they would've done to me, if I had only one more chance to kiss him. It was too little too late.

The horrors on his face made me realize the amount of opportunities I had missed with him. There could've been so much more going on between us if I only had the will to open up my heart to him a little sooner. Regrets started piling up in my eyes as I watched him look at me that way. If only he knew of what I felt for him, would life be any different?

The flight took forever until I finally landed at the wet asphalt. It wasn't exactly what I'd call a soft-landing, but at this point my body was in too much of a state of shock to register just how deadly the impact of the fall was. I felt both hot and cold at places. My mother came to mind at this point – there was something worse than having to deal with her for the rest of my life. Maybe if I had shown her a little bit of kindness, she wouldn't turn out to be the disappointment that many of us believe her to be. It was too little too late for that too.

My eyes were fighting to stay open but my brain had way too much control over them; willing them to resist the temptation. I wanted to crane my neck and look at him for one last time before it was too late, but my whole body felt like stone.

Before I knew it, the skyscrapers began to disappear, the stars began to dim out and I was floating on icy, cold water.