When my time comes, I wonder, how will it be?
I hope it happens whilst I am sleeping. Alone. Not awake. Nor with others around me.
One moment, I’m breathing, the next I’ve stopped.
Will I be ready? Expectant? Hopeful for the next, the nothing.
I’m not afraid of the end. Not now, and I hope not then.
I’ve been thinking about the end quite a bit lately. I don’t know why. Perhaps I’m one of those who needs years to prepare herself…