I am somewhere close to the edge and 

the last thing to go is the fear of death. that’s the fifth. kind of a bonus. and being labeled batshit or dramatic is a part of it.

 the nodule in my throat. that was the first to go. but the first thing that happened was I choked. the second thing that happened was my legs went numb. the third was my breath being stuck in my throat and the steady rise of water. 3:13. that’s the formula we are looking at. the audience is buried beneath a lake of ice until I need them again. wait back up there’s no order here. 

ok, the first thing to go was my mind. thank god. the second thing to go was my throat full of acid. quite literally caustic. the third thing to go was my breath. the audience is six feet under a snow covered bank and im quite fine with it now.

get on with then.

but I snap back. I will tell it as I please. there are three things that happen in order and there are thirteen deaths I see. 


 the visions, the cabin with MS the pandemic with the robberies, the police on the swat team aiming at me. the suicidal thoughts. the jail. the mental hospital. the women ganging up. the bridge and car accident. the bombing. the music and the seizure and the sweet sweet drowning. there’s an alligator somewhere. 


“13 stories: the woman who saw her own death”

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