Fuck!
FUck!
FUCk!
FUCK!!!!
Just what is wrong with my life?
This question had been on my mind ever since life stopped for me.
Life, like everybody, I should have graduated, gotten a job, gotten married, and had kids.
Next cycle follows, raise them, earn money for them, and they graduate, get job,s and get married.
It is the life of middle-class people.
Only a few people make it out of this monotony.
Okay, there is no use worrying about all of this. Why, you ask, if you look at my sad state, you will know.
I am lying on the cold asphalt, bleeding to death and I could see only back of the cameras and flashes.
People really love to record tragedies, even when they are watching someone die in front of them.
A few minutes earlier, I was walking on the footpath, just like everybody else, scrolling endlessly without looking up. And it was the reason that I couldn't see a truck straight at me and crashed into the wall.
I look at the phone, now broken but still glowing.
My phone didn't die, but I am dying.
I could feel my life slipping away as I slowly closed my eyes. People are shouting, but none of them came to look at me; none of them called an ambulance.
sigh
What a sad state of life I've led.
Just like I said, my life had stopped the day I stopped studying. It was a roller coaster ride from there, leading to my death here.
At least now I don't have to worry about someone living a rich life while I scroll and comment at their mysterious wealth. It's ironic how my phone, the very thing that consumed me, is now the only witness to my final moments. It's a sobering reminder of what truly matters in life.
***
Fuck!
Wait, why do I feel pain? It fucking hurts, like someone is pulling my body.
I can't see a fucking thing, but it fucking hurts.
What the fuck is happening?
Where am I?
AHHAA!!!!
No sound, but I know I'm screaming. It seems like it won't stop any time soon.
If I am feeling pain, then am I not dead?
Ahhh!!!
Another sharp pain in my chest, like a needle poked in my chest. I feel the sensation very clearly, as if I am very much alive.
FUCKING HELllL!!!
It got intense all of a sudden, and my whole body was burning like an oven.
There's only the stretching, the awful, endless stretching, like I'm being dragged through a keyhole that's too small for something as big as a person. But I am being dragged through it anyway.
Who is doing this?
The question burns somewhere deep inside: Who was that doing it?
I don't have a clue, but if that was someone, I would like to rip them with my bare hands.
GODDD!!!!
Then it stopped, and I could feel myself gasping for air.
What! I was shocked at myself when I realized that I was breathing again.
I could feel my hands and my body.
Then I opened my eyes to see myself in the mirror.
Touching my face, I could feel the burning skin; it was like heated meat, sweating profusely.
Looking at my hands, I could tell I was very much alive, but I was not lying on the road.
I was standing in a room; from the looks of it, it must be an attic.
I'm dead and have now come to hell; I know it.
The room very much resembled my old room in my house when I lived with my parents.
Wait,
Again, I looked at my face, I can tell I am younger, did I die and come back in time?
From the looks of it, I am an eighteen or nineteen old.
It was the first thought that struck me.
Like in popular novels and anime, people come back in time to correct their mistakes.
Fuck! Then can I also change my past?
Before even thinking about that thought, the door to my room opened.
And I was watching a man who I don't know storm right up to me and hold her index finger at me and say, "Can't you see lights outside? It is already noon; when are you going to come down, lazy ass?"
What? Lazy ass? me?
I sure as hell didn't know the person who was standing before me, but she seemed to know me very well. She seemed to be in her thirties, wore a brown-colored skirt around her round hips, and a cream-colored blouse on top to hold her large breasts, and had her black hair tied up in the back of her head into a ponytail.
Her face—she had very sharp features, the ones that belonged to an elegant lady.
From the looks of it, she is a very fuckable woman.
She glared at me and said, "What are you staring at, bastard?"
"Quickly come down and clean the kitchen. I have to go out."
I found myself narrowing my gaze at her wiggling butt as she walked away as soon as she said that.
Again, FUCKKK!!
I felt like screaming again, but I stopped myself from doing it. She seemed very scary to mess with, and I am sure she doesn't like me screaming.
I have no fucking clue as to what's happening right now.
Just a while back, I was walking down the footpath on the way home, and now I'm standing in my room with a lady who is calling me names.
sigh
What the fuck are you playing at, GOD!
At least make her my girlfriend, is what I hoped.