I wake in the night.

A voice demands me to fall back to sleep,

But I don't listen.

My brain is deaf to its reasoning and logic.

I glance at my alarm clock: 12:00 am.

I smile silently to myself,

Probably for what was the last time.

I creep slowly out of bed.

I walk steadily down the hallway,

Down the stairs, feeling strangely calm.

I slip out my back door,

Onto the green grass, now black from the starless night.

A fresh, cold wind blows,

Settling on my skin, but I don't mind.

I don't bother to bring a flashlight.

My sense of direction and the darkness would guide me.

1: Run.

I run away from my life.

I run away to an area where no light shines.

2: Wait.

I wait for the heavy sound of wheels against road,

And the roaring motor of the truck that goes by at this time.

3: Jump.

I jump into the road, in front of the truck.

It strikes me hard, like bat against ball.

I feel my head slam to ground.

Dead before I'm 16. By choice.

You're alive, the voice tells me.

I'm dead, I try to convince the voice.

No, you're alive, it whispers one last time, then fades away.

I too, then fade away, though temporary.

You're right.