Things You Wouldn’t Say On Your Deathbed

There are two tubes plugged to your left arm. The doctor said that it’s necessary to keep you going. You can barely move your finger, yet your mind is still chattering.

“I wish I wasted more time on that shit job I hated,” you say to yourself. “I wish I worked like a mule so I could completely ignore my loved ones; I wish I spent more time caring what others think, and made myself a miserable wreck by trying to please everyone; I wish had more debt so I could spend decades of my life trying to repay it by being a wage slave; I wish I endlessly tortured myself by being anxious about everything.”

The Reaper is walking towards you. His scythe is ready. You are not.

“Please, no, no, no. Please. I wish I ha—”