In a split second my body was linguine. A cooked, spineless pasta. My head thrusted violently downward, unconcerned with the cracking pain it caused my neck. My pores released gallons of cold sweat. My eyelids were flinching at an extreme rate. You could only see the white of my eye and my vision had disappeared. All I could “see” was the repetitive pattern of black and white, kaleidoscope-like geometrical shapes. It was bright and made my head hurt with even more excruciating pain. Uncontrollably, I swayed until I my body bruised itself with a smack against cold cement. My strong femurs that had held me up straight and stable failed me in that instant. I moaned out a cry for death. My cries were interrupted by potent acid-filled vomit. It traveled up from my gut, and spewed out my maw onto the floor. I lay, collapsed on the icy floor, covered in tears and vomit. Yes, my own putrid body fluids couldn’t even stand to be inside of me. I never dreamed my throat could burn so bad. By most beings, Death is a terrible thing. However, when you’re hanging by just those few threads of life, crying out pleas to end your agony and suffering, pushing harsh razor-sharp breaths out of your lungs, death is the sweetest venom. Trust me.