Some Die Just to Live.png

My name is Sydney Daniels.
I died on a Tuesday.

We’ve all had those moments when we sit and reflect on how it’s going to be when we die. Most of the time, we’re imagining ourselves as an elderly person getting ready to go off into that gentle goodnight with generations of our offspring holding our hands as we drift into a calming white light to meet a spouse or other loved ones who have preceded us in death. Other times, we have nightmares of intruders, murder, and other horrific ways of meeting our demise. We may even fantasize about suicide during those excruciating moments of pain in our lives when we feel we simply can’t make it in this world another second. 

We never ever think of dying in the most mundane, everyday kind of way. I didn’t go out in a blaze of glory, die of some tragic illness, or of old age. I died because I self-destructed

Not something you contemplate when you think about death, perhaps, because it lacks the romance or drama we train ourselves to believe. But that’s exactly what happened; I died a careless wino indulging in a night of glorious and spectacular self pity. 

I then learned that sometimes you have to die just to live. 

This is my story. 

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