I died. It was interesting. I was at my friends house when all of a sudden some guys came in, there was a struggle. I was shot and killed.
After that, I was still very much "alive," stuck on earth as a sort of ghost. I still retained my personality, my knowledge, everything, except that I didn't really exist and I was invisible. I continuted on my existance as if nothing had happened, attending classes, visiting friends, family, and the like.
Visiting people was surreal, as they had known I died, but could still hear me and feel me. Eventually, special people began to see me. People whom I wanted very much for them to see me. People whom very much wanted to see me again. I became real again, at least to these special people.
This morning I woke up very happy. Although I had died, the feeling that stayed with me was that there were people who really wanted to see me. Another thing that stayed with me was that there were people who didn't know how I felt about them. My regret was that I had died and they didn't know.