Slipping away....

When I was a little younger, I had always felt that to die wasn’t hard; to live was worse. Death had seemed like a release from the prison of life. Life was like a long continuous struggle with complications and unpleasant surprises at every turn. We worked for one thing, and when we achieved that, we worked for another and then another and so the endless cycle continued. Death, in comparison, seemed better. When we die, we just die. No struggles, no complications, nothing after that.

The people, who died early, according to me, were very lucky; while those who struggled against it, I thought, were very stupid. And then it happened to me.

A fatal accident put me on the wrong side of that very fine line between life and death. Staring at death in the face, I realized, maybe too late, that it wasn’t easier to die, but easier to live. To kill oneself was cowardice; to die unexpected, hard. For all your dreams and aspirations died when you died.

I kept trying for that last breath that would keep me alive, for I was too young to die. I struggled against death, and this is probably the biggest struggle a person can fight. In those few seconds, where a fragile and weak life struggled against the spreading like fire and strong as a storming sea, death, time was suspended for me. I realized what life was all about.

The struggles were there to be overcome and a feeling of strength and triumph to prevail. The sadness was there for us to appreciate and value happiness. The unpleasant surprises brought opportunities and pleasing wonderment. In those few precious seconds, when I realized just what a wonderful gift life is, I tried with all my strength, to hold on to life. But like ones holds sand in their hands and tightens their grip to hold on to more sand, the sand just slips away faster. Life is also like that and it just kept slipping out.

And, finally, as life is there was death to triumph, it happened. And I slipped into what I had always perceived as a blissful oblivion…