My heart was beating at a random pace, panning out to gather all the possible seconds that I was given, a probable estimation of my death line, hoping that I would not cross it, ever, but it was inevitable, I could only prolong my agony, not vanquishing it perpetually. I was standing in the middle of nowhere, my fear, darkness materialised, shrouded me, pitch black was the only thing I could perceive, fear bitten a huge chunk of me away, I was not myself, I was losing control.
Catching myself using a fragile web of light, it was futile effort, but I persisted. No, I did not, I succumbed to darkness once I knew my stand, a lost self, a qualm of an unescapable future, a dark one. I was losing myself, sinking indubitably into the abyss of nothingness.
The thin line of separation between life and death, was broken by me. No, yes. My heart was on a burning stove, being cooked raw, I was melting away into the infernal realm of pain. I was suffering, in agony, dying. Letting go of myself would be the best case scenario, without considering what would happen after then, I thought. Silence, nothingness, darkness approached me as soon as I gave up on myself.