They say that when you die, your life flashes before your eyes, and for 7 minutes you see your greatest hits.

As I lay on the grass, life draining out of me, it’s like I’ve lived my life over again.

I see my parents holding me after I won the 2nd grade spelling bee, I see my 7th grade crush; Donny McMaster kissing me on the playground. I see my first day of high school, and my last day too.

I see myself opening my acceptance letter from West Point, and I see the first time I met my future husband, Westley.

Then I graduate, join the army, and go through boot camp.

And I see myself going on this mission. Joking with Manny and Liz as we suited up, and finally, I see myself jumping between a civilian girl and taking the bullet meant for her.

Y’know, I didn’t think death could be so peaceful.

But, what disappoints me the most about this dying thing, is the fact that I don’t have any more memories. Sure, I’ve got milestones, but no memories. No real tear-jerkers or little moments, just items off of a dream checklist.

It’s just the end of the line.

No road ahead, turn back if you can.

Well I can’t.

And that sucks.

Suddenly I feel cold, and empty, but this feeling isn’t from the blood loss or the bullet that jumped around my insides.

It’s because I feel alone and lost.

Looking up at the sky, listening to the calm in the air.

I let out a wheezing scoff, “The end of the line, huh?”

The end of my line takes forever to come, and I feel trapped.

Stuck in this limbo between life and death.

The end of the line.