In that final week of that beautiful spring, I naively thought life would get better. I just finished college, got my bachelor's degree, which has proven to be as useless to me now as anything else in life, and I was ready to brave the big bold world. Naive, right?

Unfortunately, things took a turn for the worst and in a stupid accident: I drowned in my bathtub. As cliché as it can get it was all because of a misplaced bar of soup. My foot didn't see any consequences of stepping on it and it made me fall, hitting my head while passing out.

My best friend Karl heard the sound of me falling and tried for two minutes to knock the door down. He finally got me out of the bathtub, called the ambulance and tried some CPR. As a sheer coincidence, the paramedics got there under two minutes. Some random kids had called them just for a prank. At least that was what I believe back then…

I was dead, clinically dead, for seven whole minutes as later I was told by the paramedics. I didn't breathe nor my heart beat. Until, as Karl said, I spit some water, looked at Karl and simply said "my head."

I got to make lots of exams and many people wished to see me, mostly doctors. As you can see, it's pretty rare for someone to die and live to tell.

Well, you might be wondering, lots of people die and come back a few minutes later, right? It's always on the news some incredible story like that.

And the injured party always claim some fake supernatural event. I never for once believe those bullshits. They clearly want some attention, right?

Well, my friend, here is where you get it wrong too. I saw it. I really saw. Not a tunnel nor a light. I saw myself down on the floor. I saw my friend Karl crying and desperate.

I saw his failed attempt at CPR. I saw the paramedics try and give up. I saw them trying to console Karl, that it was "God's will."

Of course, I didn't remember this until that night, where it all appeared to me in a dream. I didn't remember when I woke up from death, I was too drowsy, I wasn't myself. Only when I slept I remember. I was in that horrible bed of that hospital. I had some trouble sleeping and they got me some pills and I slept.

In that dream, I saw everything that has happened with clear details. I didn't believe a thing when I woke up, of course.

I only became a true believer almost a day later when I died again. I was still in the hospital and it was a few hours past noon. I had my horrible hospital lunch and did some exams. None has shown any signals of me ever 'dying'. I was normal as anyone could get. No trauma no nothing.

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The silly doctors where perplexed with it, so was I back then. You might be wondering again now, how did I die again then? If I was fit as a horse?

Life is full of surprises my friend. And life is the devil in disguise. Life only wants to fuck you up and that's all. It tries to kill me, brings me back only to kill me some hours later, and by what? A fucking peanuts allergy.

The strange thing? I was never fucking allergic to peanuts! I just got my friend Karl, my good old friend, to get me some chocolate from a vending machine nearby.

He was so happy seeing me alive, he was constantly remembering that time when I laid flat on the ground and de despair he felt, and how happy he was, how happy.

When he brought me that candy bar he would have never thought that would kill me again. For the second time, Karl saw me die.

At first, things were normal, but less than 10 seconds later I couldn't breathe. Karl thought I was making a silly joke, a man from the grave joke. But I really couldn't fucking breath.

And don't be mad at him, the poor guy had been through a lot and no one would ever have thought I would die again, right?

He got some doctors when I got a little blue and started crying again. I never knew this side of him. Always crying for dead people. Life and death are so common to me now that when I remember that day I find it silly and comical. So many ways to die. Well, I would experience many of them myself in the near future.

The doctors treated me well. Got some injection on me, gave me something I don't remember the name. It's hard remembering things when you are dying, you see.

I didn't help much. For some reason, things escalated very quickly and my heart once again stopped beating.

If you think I died yet again for seven minutes you are deadly wrong. This time was only one minute. There were doctors doing the serious job this time.

When I was all safe and sound I got to do all sort of exams again, thus increasing my medical bill to astronomical amounts.

I think Karl said "I'm sorry" a thousand times, or at least very close to that number.

The funny thing was that I was never allergic to peanuts and I still ain't! But nevertheless, I've got to live, one more day. One at a time. Only to die in the next.

But it was in this second time that I turned myself in a true believer. When I woke up from death I remember what I saw, and I saw it clearer this time. I saw myself dead in a table with doctors nearby.

I remember every word they said as soon as I woke up. And a strange little idea popped up in my mind. An idea that would change my life forever. Can't I die?

That idea didn't leave my head for hours and hours. I became obsessed with it. I tried to see some articles on the web about near-death experiences but it was always full of bullshit. I would have a better time trying to see some real reports of UFOs…

In the next day, you see, I died once again. And this one was a pretty silly death. I still laugh at my naivety back then.

I wanted to test a theory I whimsically had and tried to kill myself.