is said that when you are about to die your entire life flashes before your eyes in just seconds. It may be true, and, perhaps, every time you sit down to die, you have the opportunity to choose from all your moments, either to avoid or prevent your death or, in any case, to prevent or avoid pain. Just why this happens, you go to know ...
I've died many times and has never spent my life before my eyes. I've died in tiny deaths in driver deaths in drowning deaths from other deaths, and death shit in death of death. But there are killings of "all one hundred", those deaths which gets a half smile of relief at having been so close. You stay incredibly fucked up, everything hurts and intuit yes, you've been on the edge, because your body is a burden too heavy, like you've gone beyond and because you have lost the power of weightlessness or whatever is taken into another state of consciousness, is that the meat makes one to remind you to feed all that mass of blood, bones and muscles like it or not, carry him and take care of him ...
But the real death from the loss oneself. In this state it falls and not returned. Sometimes it causes certain circumstances. Sometimes not. And then you do not see your life pass before your eyes if you really know you're dying. You exhaust yourself in seconds dilated, as if you have no more balls to see the world through a fisheye lens that distorts everything you see, a world that is real and what is not, a world that seems very difficult to escape the fear, of anger or pain. Everything is exaggerated and disproportionate to limits knowing that at any moment will swoon unable to endure such pain. But no. Stand it. Because we hold everything. And your mind stops. Stops. Just think hold on, hold on. Is a pulse against yourself that eventually wear you down, win or not.
Maybe so, I stand from time to time to dwell on my time machine, letting my whole life before my eyes, without losing detail trying to anticipate the pain to come, to the misfortune to come. And I try to itemize each and every one of the episodes of my biography, if one can be useful to me to this misery. Because I at least do not look unhappy. I try to cushion my pain, do not delete them because I am capable, but at least not wallow in them. No annoying episodes I remember, I will not detail the horrible things that happened to me, I do not want. Only they are worthy to be remembered, if remembered is to live again. And then I remember stuff good, I remember laughing, chills, feeling, touching, sleepless nights, secrets, things, toddler or big boys games. And little by little Frames of my life pass before my eyes reminding me that I was also happy: friends, games, kisses, nights on the town ... and of course, of course, no sex scenes. Sex good. Good little thing. Maybe because sex is something that is so cool remember. Not only positions or details, faces, cocks, but also the game, intentions, or tenderness that caused me, the curiosity, the desire, the sense of adventure, feeling alive, the desire ... Everyone who ever gave me pleasure, or all those to whom I gave my whole to provide joy, then pass on that movie in my life. I feel like my body fills with sap rewarding as my memories go blowing my veins life and little by little, everything begins to make more sense. Then it is easier to hold, just a moment. And I love to stay a while there, knowing that I can die tomorrow, and I will be the same if you see the tunnel of time in the last minute that passes before me my whole life.
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