I am walking towards my apartments, open the door, and wait for the lift. Enter the lift, where this guy, absolutely looking normal shoots me.....whats happens next? When somebody finds me, they get my identifications n stuff, and contact my family. Then there is the tears n loss story. Dunno about the killer, but i am dead.
Alternately, i get shot, but survive, though get a handicap. What and how different would life be then.
I cut my nerves one day, and wonder how my pa would take it? I am this happy chirpy bubbly person, who doesn't go about suicides and stuff.
I get run in an accident while saving 3 kids, 2 survive, so do i, but the 3rd doesn't make it. I have a guilt that takes my moments away.
I give myself a plausible explanation that i am reading too much about murder/rape/incest/trauma, both on electronic and print media. Even half the fiction stuff i read goes around all this. Its not too scary, but yeah, i'd rather imagine smelling the flowers than all this.....Again, probably coz' i think so much about death & pain, that half the thoughts club around the same.
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