Prologue

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They always say that when you die, your life will flash before your eyes. There's a dark tunnel, a white light. If you're lucky enough, you may even be entitled to some heavenly voices or an angelic choir. But then...

That's it.

There's no more light in your eyes, no more breath in your lungs; when someone trails their fingers over your face, the heat that would flush to your cheeks is no longer there. Your senses shut down, your thoughts are kaput, and if you believe it enough, your soul may even depart from your body. Where it goes, I have no clue, but people believe all sorts of things- new bodies, meeting God, the whole nine yards.

But in layman's terms, it's pretty simple. You're dead. Think about it. You are deceased. You've gone. You passed on, crossed over the bridge. It's time for you to start picking up the slack and start pushing up the freaking daisies, if you get my drift, because you are now plant fertilizer; you're just the latest dead person in a whole long string of bodies.

Your life may flash before your eyes, but it's not really there. It's your brain trying to comfort you in your final moments. It's trying to make sense of the different chemicals running through you; the lack of oxygen becomes suffocating. The final gift your brain bestows on you is to create a hallucination to follow you to your grave.

Take it from me, dying isn't as romantic as all the books and movies make it seem. I should know.

I think I just died.

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