If i wrote

If I were to write the story of my birth, it wouldn’t be a first hand account. I don’t remember anything. It would have come from my mother, my father, or my aunt.

If I were to write the story of my childhood, I’d say it was carefree. But I made mistakes then. I broke my wrist playing on the monkey bar. Grazed myself a dozen times or more and brought many playmates to the dirt with me.

If I were to write a story of my teens, it would be colorful. There would be joy and happiness, elation and adrenaline, hurt and pain, laughter and tears. But its not complete.

If I were to write a story of my adulthood, -well, I can’t. *laughs*

If I were to write a story of my life, it will be MeSSy, because I can’t plan. It would be a literary eyesore and a headache for few.

If I were to write a story of my life, it would be long and winding. It would bore everyone to death, because I don’t write for their pleasure. There would be a lot of questions, but I will not answer, because it’s not for them to know.

If I were to write a story of my life, it would never end. Because I wouldn’t live in time to finish it.

My death?

I haven’t died. How should I know?!