The world seemed to stop in the moment the bullet penetrated my chest. It felt like everything moved a little slower. It was comforting. The blood oozed from the fresh wound, dribbling down onto the grass as people watched on in horror. It wasn’t meant to end like this, but now that it has, I can’t say I object.

It was all an accident. A misunderstanding, a child given a gun and told it was a toy. I don’t even think the kid was aiming at me, but it all happened so fast it’s hard to determine.

I didn’t even notice the bullet until I felt myself falling backwards in slow motion, my head landing first on the cool grass. After a while, I struggled to keep my eyes open as my breathing grew heavier.

When help finally arrived, the world was finally silent, and in my last dying breath, a faint smile spread across my pale face.

I was never really suicidal, I loved living my life to the absolute fullest, but in that moment, I felt nothing but pure ataraxy. I felt no fear, no sadness, I just felt free. It was the only solution to the elutheromania that had been hovering above me unnoticeably for all this time, and it was more liberating than you would ever know.

Even down to the physical senses. The wind blew loudly in my ears, drowning out the cries of the people that watched me fall. The grass was soft and moist beneath my hands, and the sky, it seemed to peer down onto me sadly, but the light that the sun provided felt wonderful against my skin.

In hindsight, the situation was depressing, unjust, and just all around horrible, but experiencing it first hand would probably have to be the best thing to ever happen to me, and that scares me, even in death.