Dying is.. Unpleasant, I'll give you that.

It's not exactly seeing a light in the end of a tunnel, nor is it like floating away in a little gondola, driven by Death himself through the thick, dark, swirling mist over the even darker water.

You don't feel a weird sense of lightness tingling in the bottom of your stomach before it spreads through your body like a firework, all the way to your fingertips. Like your spirit is being lifted up in the air and you're free, flying, ready to move on.

You don't relive your memories during the eight minutes after you've taken your last breath.

You just die.

The worst thing about dying is that moment when you lie there, knowing that in any moment your body won't be able to hold it together anymore and collapse. Knowing that you're not done living.

This feeling, I can't even explain it. You're not ready to let go, not ready to move on. You keep clinging to what's left of life, what's left of all you've known. But you know that the force that is dragging you away from it, tearing at you until your fingertips slip and you fall, fall away from everything and everyone you've loved, it's too strong.

Falling. When you've lost the grip of life, there's nothing you can do. You're grasping for something, anything, but all that meets you is air.
Emptiness.

And this is when you start to feel like this day really hasn't been the best.

Of course, this is all metaphorical. You don't actually fall away from life, that'd be silly. But it's the best I can explain it.

Oh, and when the last thing you see before your eyes close for the last time is the beautiful, almond shaped eyes of your boyfriend, made of all shades of brown you could ever imagine, tearful yet so full of life, that's when you wonder for real, what made the world this cruel?
Or is the place I'm going to wonderful enough to leave this all behind?

I never thought dying would be nice.

I just never imagined it would be painful because of what you're leaving behind.

 I guess you're all very confused right now. I understand that, but this tale needs to be told in it's own pace.
I'm not going to rush it.
I need to start from the very beginning. Not that I know exactly where the beginning actually is, but I will trail the line of words back to where my story commences.

Well, where my story, that will entwine with others, begins. This is not just about me. Every person has it's own background, it's own story.

But I'm here to tell you mine.