When people spoke of rebirth, the first thing that comes to my mind is Taylor Swift in 2017, with her hit song ”Look What You Made Me Do ”. I had always envied her for taking such a bold step, killing herself even when I knew she didn (and be reborn into a bad bitch). Of course, she was probably fed up with being the nice guy, constantly taking shit from people and the countless years and years of heartbreaks. It probably was the hardest thing she had to do, but as I stared down at my lifeless body in my room, my life hanging by a thread, with each end being held by two women Id never met, telling me that my life was in my hands, and the next turn it would take, depends on my answer; I realized that I was right to envy her, hers was childs play.

Explaining how I went from sleeping in my room, after the most disturbing body pains and scattered mental state, to my soul refusing entry back into my body, would seem like something off a book, but it wasn .

I had wished for death. I wasn suicidal, neither did I try to hurt myself, ever, but there are times life dealt horribly with me and made me want to drop dead, leave this world for good and never return, and this time it was no different, I was fed up with living, and I wanted it to end, but I was too much of a coward to do anything myself.

When I was younger, I was the healthiest girl out of all three kids in my family, and I took great pride in it. My sisters, Lia and Dinah, were always sick, and Id take care of them with joy in my heart. Being the middle child with no weight to my being a part of the family, I was extremely glad that I had something to do, that I had a way to stay relevant. I would squeal in joy when. I heard one of my sisters complaining about any discomforts, and maybe my joy for nursing them back to health was taken the wrong way, maybe I wished for something darker without realizing it, because that could be the only reason why my two sisters and my parents died in a car accident, while coming back from the hospital on that day, two years ago.

I had never been the same after their deaths, I constantly felt ill. I harbored hate in my heart for myself and my family, and even when I tried to be happy, when I tried to make friends and live a normal life as people urged me to do, it didn feel right.

I never knew what made me sick, and doctors didn know either, because all my tests and full body scan always came out clean, free from sickness, but I wasn okay, I was sick and I knew it.

The pain had gotten worse, it came with full force and was too much for me to handle, there were no drugs to take and no one to call, so I lay on my bed and called for death as people do in movies. I prayed for the angel of death to take me away. My prayers seemed to have been heard, because the next jolt of pains that coursed through my body, I wasn ready for them, and like the coward I am, I cried for help. I asked the universe to help me, to save me, to make me whole again. I was too late.

Fate and Order, they called themselves, the women that stood before me, with smiles on their pale faces. Fate was slightly shorter than Order, she had chubby cheeks and a soft smile, the kind youd call ”home

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