I’ve always wondered how one’s life can flash before one’s eyes in six minutes, but it can. Doesn’t seem possible but I was there. I knew.
Six minutes. Did that mean my life hadn’t been worth more than six minutes? Or is that just the time angels give you to make amends, get your name upgraded from hell to heaven? Or downgraded.
It’s like there is a suspension of belief, those six minutes when you can’t accept that, yes, you are going to die. That all the pain and suffering of your life is almost over. No one can hurt you any more. You’ve got hurt enough to last six minutes and longer, but all you have is six minutes.
Still, you have time to regret those things you did wrong, and those you did right. I like to think I did more for the right than the wrong, but I know better. I’d killed people, people I didn’t even know. People with sons and daughters; wife and parents and friends.
Killed them for no reason except the man in power told me so. Ship out and kill some of those bastards. Kill as many as I could, truth be told.
Now, I know better. Killing doesn’t make things right. Not for the winners or the losers. Whoever said war solved problems didn’t know shit about war. You can’t solve your problems with fighting. It just makes more fighting. More death.
I’m about gone now. The pain is gone completely and I can feel my body going, death rolling up my frame like ocean waves.
The ocean. I used to love to go to the ocean. Swim. Play on the sa…..