I stared at the artexed ceiling, captivated by the patterns above me.  The white swirling ripples looked like waves on a stormy ocean, turbulently beautiful, violently enchanting.  I imagined what it would be like to be in a boat on such an ocean, battered by the waves, shaken by the elements, adrenaline pumping through my veins as I waited for the storm to end, hoping I would survive.

 

I could taste the salt in the air, hear the boat creaking all around me.  I could see it.  I could see the boat rocking back and forth, almost capsizing as the waves crashed into it, teetering on the brink of destruction.  It was terrifying, horrifying, but it made me feel.  A simple imagining, a daydream, made me feel alive for the first time in years, awakening emotions Id long considered dead.

 

I glanced at the empty bottle of sleeping pills on my bedside table, wondering if maybe Id made a mistake.  No.  It was ironic that in my final minutes of life Id felt more alive than I had in years, but one way or another the feeling would pass.  Better it did so on my terms.

 

I closed my eyes.

 

 


Many thanks to Alicia, whose editing expertise never ceases to enrich my work as much as she enriches my life


 

 

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