So, dying sucks.
I'm not saying that because it isn't obvious....but, like... It really, really freaking sucks.
I guess I'd always assumed that when I died it wouldn't be that great, but I also didn't think it would happen for a while. I mean, I was only 18! I was still a young maiden! Not yet married, not a mom....
There was so much I wanted to do!
...
You know, they always talk about the 12 stages of grief when someone dies...but what if you're the one that died? I mean, how am I supposed to deal with that?!
I'm so pissed!
Fuck!
It's not just the fact that I died that pisses me off, it's also the fact that I died to some disgusting thing that I don't even know the name of. It was freaking gross.
It was a mound of flesh roiling and rolling all over itself, almost mindlessly sloshing around on the ground. It had these eyes...there were dozens of them all over its body. They were different colors, and shapes. Some were huge and others tiny....And then the mouths. *gag*
Sorry....I almost threw up.
There were so many and they kept...groaning and moaning. They wouldn't stop screaming and pleading!
Honestly...after taking in that image, I kinda blacked out.
I didn't wake up until it was too late and half my body had already been consumed by that freaking thing.
Which was just delightful. They say that if you have your arm ripped off you don't feel it because your body goes into shock. Well, if you're slowly eaten, you don't go into shock. Would have been nice to know before hand.
Anyways....
I'm just waiting here for the next stage I guess....
If there's a light I ain't seeing it.