When I die, I don't want my life to flash before my eyes. I don't want to see all the pain that I went through, or all the grief that I have caused to people who I held so close. I don't want to see the betrayal of people who I called friends, I don't want to see the lies, the false hope, the bliss of ignorance fly through my head as I stand on the edge of a bridge, or on a teetering chair. I don't want to see my memories flowing out with the blood staining my wrists, or coming back up with the excessive amount of pills. I want to see nothing, or perhaps, maybe Death itself. The black robed man, with the scythe of hollowed oak wood and polished silver blade. Curved so perfectly it sometimes seems to be the moon in the sky, fresh after a new moon. I don't want a rerun of my life as I take my last breath and plunge into the icy river. I want to look at Death, I want to stare directly under that hood of his and at whatever may be under it and tell him, "I don't fear you." Then, maybe I can kick the chair, take the step, slice down, swallow, hold my breath. Maybe then I can kill myself and be at peace for the first time in forever.