Eight years ago around this time, I thought you were trying to kill me.
I remember lying there in my pajamas, waiting for my brother to get me to the emergency room, thinking 25 was way too young to die, thinking, surprisingly, not so much of what awaited me next or how my family would cope when I was gone, like I'd always thought I'd think if I was dying, but of the unfinished musical project that I'd cared so much about yet never had had a chance to finish.
I remember the ER nurse asking me i...
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