Dying in Three, Two, One
I didn't receive any messages or notifications that my follow request had been approved.
I sat down and looked at myself in a handheld mirror. I watched as the numbers above my head slowly counted down. I had three hours to go.
I wanted them to be with me on my last day in this life; I wanted to know how they would react when I died. Maybe they would be pleasantly surprised—no one cared about my life or death, after all. They were my family, but they despised me with every fiber of their being.
I brought the food to the table and waited. Some oil had splashed onto my hand while cooking, and it hurt. It didn't take away from my excitement, though.