text: I won’t be able to describe to you how painful it is to die. How agonizing a slow death is. One that passively marches toward you and you’re left to sit and watch. Your stomach rises into your throat in a burning fashion. The acid coats your esophagus. Flight or fight? No, you’ve frozen in your tracks as you stare ahead at a crumbling landscape. You were so terrified that you couldn't even shake in fear. You just stood there. The world is tearing itself apart in a menacing manner. The type you’ve seen in action-packed movies or read about in thrilling novels. You couldn’t move so the destruction made its way to your legs and ankles. So, unless you have died, I cannot describe the misery and degradation you feel. “It burns” and “it hurts” doesn’t cut it. Of course, I can tell you about all your teeth smashing together from one side of your face to the other. It is not just about the pain. It is the trauma of being torn apart. The snapping of every tooth from its home, crashing into its neighbor’s neighbor. They created a horrible song as they clashed with the pavement. They ripped up your gums in harmonious tremors. I can describe to you the agony of being cornered. How can you tolerate the immense pounding you feel as your brain throbs against your frontal lobe? It pulses within the pangs of discomfort. Your brain throbs like the mountains that are smashing into one other. There is a chill on your skin. Something wet. The wind causes your skin to erupt in goosebumps. They litter the back of your neck, forcing the hairs to stand up. They tickle you, along with the chill from the various liquids that drip down your face. The sweat- it is sweat! The sweat that drips from your forehead into your gaping mouth repulses you. You can still taste the salt even though your tongue has been ripped to shreds by your vicious teeth. The pain tastes like salt. You keep swallowing the iron and sweat. It is the only thing hydrating your arid tongue. You can really feel the copper now. Maybe it is nickels you taste instead. But the taste is bitter and unbearable. You cannot control your body anymore so the pennies and nickels just keep sliding down your throat. Your throat convulses and contorts in reaction to the blood that continues to slide into your stomach. You can really feel them, huh? Their round and rusted exteriors scrape your throat as they fill your belly. You’d shut your eyes if you could, but your caramel eyes dangle from their sockets. Rhythmically, they swing in iambic euphony. How did your eyes escape their sockets? Something must have hit you with a strong force. From the back! Yes, from the back you were hit with a flying rock that crushed your legs and knocked your eyes out. The bones are shattered now. How did you not notice that aching? You were too focused on the taste of blood in your mouth. Your drying eyes. You're ready to run now. “How did I get here?” You’ll wonder. You’ll ponder the day before when you weren’t doing anything. The lazy napping and binge eating feel remorseful, especially knowing you spent your last day of freedom doing absolutely nothing. The dedication you held to your job or academia squanders under the regime of death. Everything you connected yourself to meant absolutely nothing. Why do we do this to ourselves? Push and push. As the world crumbles around your aching body, the beauty of the sky lights up your eyes. That magnificent blue that has always been too intimidating to gaze at seems inviting now. The clouds have fled the sky, and there are no longer birds fluttering about. “What color will the sunset be tonight?” You’ll wonder. If only you could chase the sunset. Run to the west until the continent meets the sea. Those foamy waves that kiss the sandy shore over and over again. Rhythmically, like your eyes in the wind. What can you see now? Just the sky? What's happening to the right? To the left? It was all trivial. Life was a terrarium you looked at too closely. Will you last long enough to see it? I am rooting for you to see it. If you can't run to it, I hope it runs to you. Can life still be beautiful with the sound of gurgling blood, sweat, and saliva? What happened to the birds in the trees? Where have they gone to? Will you go too? The ground cries in agony as it shakes beneath you, changing once more. Our Earth must go through phases like our Moon. She enters her final chrysalis as the world ends in fire, ice, eruptions, and floods. Let her begin anew. “Will there still be a sunset tonight?” You wonder. Your hands are crushed by the boulder that was sent flying from dancing tectonic plates. They twirled and jumped in synchronized perfection! Sending rocks and gravel into the air like a splatter-painted piece of art. How much would you pay for something that beautiful? The trees uprooted themselves and fell on top of one another, like your teeth. The oceans are starting to swell and there’s a profuse burning smell off in the distance that’s making you nauseous. I am envious of your indomitable spirit. You rise like that far-off smoke into that daunting sky. I've read your story a hundred times. If only I could pacify you now. But we are worlds away and in different realms. You are a faraway fairy tale I’m reading to my daughter. And my mother read this story to me too. I, too, was caught up in the sunset. She begs me to describe the sunset you’re waiting to see. My lips are sealed tight and I smile hauntingly at her. Cheek to cheek, my fangs are revealed. I cannot describe what it feels like to die, but I can tell you this. Again and again.