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What if I was still alive? Not in the memory of you who are reading me as of now, but in the memory of that moment, of the trees who witnessed me die, of the ground who caught me as my limp body stretched out for one last air, in the memory of my eyes looking at the sky for the last time and wondering, „Did I foget the door open to the balcony? Mom is going to kill me if it rains. And judgin by the sky, it sure will.”, of the rain which washed away the blood from the street, of my mom who didn’t get upset at me forgeting the door open (and who knows, maybe if I had taken those 5 seconds and closed that door, the car would have never made impact on me)...

But, then again, I don’t have a mom and nor does my gramps have a balcony in his house to which I can foget a door opened, so none of this can be as dramatic and as poetic as I want it to be, but hey, it’s my death, so I can depict it however I want it

And in the future when someone else will die and will find these notes, won’t they be encouraged to do the same? Why should I follow in the footsteps of those behind me who did not even graze the idea of inventing an app for the dead. I mean, come on ghosts.

So, getting back to me. Shit. I was getting the flow of the poet and all of that. Now I’ll have to talk about pidgeons, and snow falling on houses.

Description

What if I was still alive? Not in the memory of you who are reading me as of now, but in the memory of that moment, of the trees who witnessed me die, of the ground who caught me as my limp body stretched out for one last air, in the memory of my eyes looking at the sky for the last time and wondering, „Did I foget the door open to the balcony? Mom is going to kill me if it rains. And judgin by the sky, it sure will.”, of the rain which washed away the blood from the street, of my mom who didn’t get upset at me forgeting the door open (and who knows, maybe if I had taken those 5 seconds and closed that door, the car would have never made impact on me)...

But, then again, I don’t have a mom and nor does my gramps have a balcony in his house to which I can foget a door opened, so none of this can be as dramatic and as poetic as I want it to be, but hey, it’s my death, so I can depict it however I want it

And in the future when someone else will die and will find these notes, won’t they be encouraged to do the same? Why should I follow in the footsteps of those behind me who did not even graze the idea of inventing an app for the dead. I mean, come on ghosts.

So, getting back to me. Shit. I was getting the flow of the poet and all of that. Now I’ll have to talk about pidgeons, and snow falling on houses.