Dying is a slow process. I don't know when I realized that I was dying. I had hints and inklings but not enough to piece together. Never enough to stir an awareness of self to know that I was dying, until now. Why was I dying? Surely we all come to a point when we accept death. No one lives forever, everyone dies, accidents happen, people grow old, it's not meant to be. That is why I'm dying. When will I die? It's slow, it's here, it's now. I am dying. What the hell am I dying for? Too selfish to be a martyr. I am dying for the hell that awaits me. I will go to hell for my truths. How am I dying? Cause and effect.
It started with birth. My child's birth. And she was beautiful. And I laughed along with her as she came out and opened, opened her mouth and it was laughter to my ears. And I die for me, she is me, I am she. She is my death.