Cry for death

I've been kissed by death three times in a row. I wake up from the ghost of you, my chest feeling like it's been caved in, black stripes of my mascara running down my cheeks as I cry, and gasp out for air. My insides feel like they're ripping, but it's apart of healing, right? I wish death had just taken me. I wish this distress would stop, I wish I could feel like me again, to feel like a real person. To not be in an episode.