I honestly never thought that my life would be so -- uneventful. Then I died.
The first thing I saw was my body lying on the cold tile, wrapped in a white towel, my hair still wet, and my head split open. It was a wake-up call, definitely. Seeing your corpse is somewhat surreal. Youre like: 'Shit, that's me.' Yeah.
The next thing I noticed was the 19-digit number branded into my right arm.
Predictably, my obit read like a slice of tofu: extremely bland, and absent of any flavor.
Jack McIntyre, 23, died Tuesday evening in his Brooklyn home, after slipping from his shower. He was survived by his mother and a younger sister and brother.
That was it. Two sentences. Twenty-three years of living and Im summed up in two Goddamn sentences.
The first few days I sat around my mothers house, watching her try to organize my funeral. If your death isnt the swift kick to the nuts, then