Today is the day, the man said to me,
"You might die".
I looked at him perplexed and concerned.
He shook his head in disbelief.
I was all of 21,before I touched a drink.
"You might die", he kept repeating and it started to burn.
The sensation of fire consumed what was left of my sanity.

All I could hear in the center of my mind was, "You Might Die". How could he be so cruel? Trying to end me before I was ready to go.Why would he scare a young woman alone in this world.

"You Might Die!"He told me again as the diagnosis grew more bleak. With a harsh tone he reminded me of the suffering I would face, all the time I would lose and the memories that would escape.I did not care if I forgot my 6th birthday or that my favorite song was actually going to become, Dust In The Wind.

"You Might Die!" was all that concerned me. I could feel my fist form in discontent at this professionals callousness. He starkly said, What do you have to say? With one fist raised in the air, I became what I had grown to detest a southerner so proud to live, but never proud to die.

The words flowed in the accent my grandmother used. I looked this man of profession and prestige in the eye, with my fist in the air I proclaimed, "As God as my witness, I will not Die!"

That was six years ago and "You Might Die", tried to end me, but I would not give in.I write to you today with friendship and good cheer.I can tell you the secret to life, find something you hold dear.

A dream, a vision something death cannot breach. If a man in a white coat one day comes to your door. Look that person in the eye and yell,"You might die!"

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