Alice has no air in her lungs. She is not breathing. She doesn't feel something warm and thick pool in the corner of her eye and run down her cheek.
She doesn't taste that same liquid fill her mouth or see the bright lights flash blue and red, or hear the sirens quickly approach her.
Below her someone's lungs are burning, begging for air to fill them.
Around her someone's body is shaking; someone nails are scratching at the walls of her vehicle and someone's heart is confused and breaking. A moment ago, it had complete function.
Now all it knows is that in order to live it must pump blood and that seems to be decreasing quickly.
She had heard there would be great pain in death, but Alice doesn't feel anything. Alice lay thinking. No, don't think. Yes, Alice lay thinking.
She is thinking about how tired she is and the comforting darkness. She is thinking that this is it. Soon it will all be over. She is thinking everything would end.
She relishes in the relief she felt. "There will be no parents." She thinks. "There will be no exes." She thinks. "There will be no classmates or clients or pain or pills.
There will be no heartache, or hospitals, or bills." She thinks. "In just a moment, there will be no job, worries, or expectations or-" Soon there would be no thoughts.
Those thoughts that made her stumble over her words and made her hands shake.
Those thoughts that made her think over and over again until she over thought and she couldn't be sure of anything any longer. Those thoughts that made her insecurities even more unstable.
Those thoughts had told her that she was too reserved. She was too loose. No, she was too prude. She was too loud, too boyish, and overly apathetic.
She was too serious, and keeps too much to herself. Those thoughts have told her that she was not pretty. She was not smart, or talented, or funny, or charming.
Oh, how she longed for the day it would all turn off. She found comfort knowing that her mind would collapse in on itself and everything would-
Stop! Stop! Stop! Why didn't she stop? She saw the sign. Why didn't she slow down? Why didn't she look both ways? She should've paid attention especially since it was raining.
Her world stopped for a moment as she thought those forbidden thoughts. Her head span as she remembered getting into the car. She tried not to slam the door.
She wiped tears out of her eyes as she drove down the paved two-lane highway. What had she been upset about again? Bright lights lit up the left side of her face. Her head hurts.
She couldn't blow her horn. Her lungs burn. She slowly turned her head. Her head really hurts.
She heard the screech of her breaks and felt the jolt of her car as the semi-truck pushed her car of the road, into a ditch. She heard the glass shatter into a million pieces.
Her head hit the steering wheel hard and she couldn't breathe. Now she doesn't want too.
She lay there dying and debates whether she should open her lungs or drift off into death. Neither option appeals to her.
She thinks of her responsibilities and wishes for one more day to tie up loose ends before she lay her soul to sleep for the final time. She had wished so many times for the peace of death.
To live was to struggle. It was her against the world, and all too often she would have to fight against herself too. Alice feels sorry to her parents. She feels sorry toward her ex.
She feels sorry to her classmates and her clients, to the hospital, toward her job, toward the bills toward the pain, toward the heartache.
The things she had always run away from in life she holds onto tightly in death.
Who would take care of them when she was gone? Would she miss them when she was gone?
When she has gone where her thoughts are non-existent, and her brain has no ability to think or feel or rationalize.
When her ears stop functioning, and she can no longer hear the encouraging words of her father whose affirmation was all she could wish for.
When she realizes that the thick warm liquid pooling in her mouth is her body's life force escaping from its cage, and she can no longer remember the sweet taste of her childhood,
as something someone said at some time made her smile in a past half forgotten.
When her arms can no longer wrap around the body of the one she loved and hold him until he stopped trembling, when she could no longer hold her mother's cold,
frail hand and see the smile actually reach the eyes of the most beautiful woman she had ever seen.
When her legs could no longer carry the weight of the world, as she has collapses underneath the pressure, and watches her crumbling life finally fall out of her reach,
would she wish she hadn't done it? Would she wish she had tried harder? Would her heart ache? Would the pain of not knowing drive her mad?
Thoughts of the life she was about to leave make her weep. She wants to live. She would go back and work harder and appreciate it more.
She would be more careful with the precious thing she wished away. She would breathe in deeper and her decisions will be smarter.
She would look at life from a new perspective- from one that has seen death and came back from it, like a conqueror.
She will be a person worth the struggle of life because even the struggle was beautiful. She took a deep breath and waited for her eyes to see color again.
But it was too late. Try as she might, her lungs would never reopen. The young Alice lived most of her life inside her head and sadly that is where she died.
She spent too much time debating a choice that should have been obvious. Now she was just an empty body and a cold memory, lying lifeless in the front seat of a wrecked car on a rainy day.