I had always thought of myself as a thinker. I sometimes thought about things so hard that I would give myself a headache, analyzing things until I confused myself into incoherency. You could always count on me to be deep off in thought, my ears plugged up with ear buds that played sweet Debussy to relax me.
Though, I can say for sure, I had never given thought to how I would die. And if I had, I never would have thought it would be like this.
Out of all the ways there were to die, however, this seemed like the best. To die in the place of someone I love. It sounded noble enough.
It was because I loved her more than life itself that I was ready to die.
I was terrified. Not terrified for myself, but for my love. I was doing this for her, I could never feel even a twinge of regret for this.
When life offers you a dream so far beyond any of your expectations, it's not reasonable to grieve when it comes to an end.
And so I glared fiercely into the face of death, my chin raised arrogantly, ready to die. And death was ready to give me that.