’I’m gonna die.’ It was almost humorous as I thought it.

All the times I had wondered how I was going to die, what I would say, who I would call, who I would love, who I would hate, what I would be like. Because, after all, your last moment is immensely important. Perhaps more important than any other moment in your life.

And as I lay there in the airtight room, my breaths shallow and slow to possibly prolong my life. Maybe some callous guard outside would change his mind and open the door. That would be nice.

My mind was a rambling, hurried prayer. My thoughts gushing out of me to someone who could hopefully lend his ear to my thoughts. I didn’t really feel alone then because there was someone who was paying attention.

And I thought of all the wrongs I had done and how foolish it all really was when staring death in the face.

But for some reason, the only scary thought in mind was me not being remembered. That was the racing thought in my mind as I closed my eyes and prayed to open them soon.