They say that when you die, time slows. Life flashes before your eyes. Its calming, changing.

Don't trust them. It's a lie. My first death was painful. Unforgettably painful.

Every following death has been many things. Some magnificent. Many were fast, unexpected. Others have been slow and humiliating and agonizing. However, one common thread has tied these together - death has remained painful. So, so painful.

You would think that it would grow on you - as funny as that sounds. That by the thousandth; no, by the ten thousandth death, the pain would be bearable. Unnoticeable, even. But, it's not. Don't let anyone fool you. Death is not peaceful. There is nothing more painful than that moment right before dying - it's not something you will ever be able to get used to.

Despite that, I keep dying. So, I guess, I might be untrustworthy. Take my advice as you will. But at least I warned you.

….

It started as many things do, with a heart attack.

Standing amidst the New York subway's early morning bustle, I awaited the train's arrival. A glance at my watch confirmed my suspicion: "Running late," I muttered to no one in particular. Yet, a whimsical thought floated through my mind – what if the train had somehow broken down? An improbable wish, really. Hope lingered though; perhaps - just perhaps, it would not come today.

I knew this was a truly hopeless prayer; ever since I'd been hired, two constants had held true. First: the train's eventual arrival. Second: my exhausted departure from the stock market at 9:00 o'clock sharp.

I suppose this lifestyle should have suited me; I fit the stereotypical broker mold. My buddies certainly thought so, often teasing me about my uncanny ability to turn relationships into financial derivatives - non-existent. These same pals had egged me on to embrace the finance world, convinced that my cool and collected demeanor made me the James Bond of spreadsheets or something.

Yet, deep inside, I couldn't help but feel they might have overplayed their hand. I knew I shouldn't have put so much faith in them - I had been over-trusting. This job was eroding my soul.

Indeed, the need to travel, to leave this place, to explore distant lands, to immerse myself in new cultures, burned within me. Europe, China, India – these places had become like mythical lands to me. I daydreamed about swapping my tie for a tribal necklace, trading suits for a journey into the unknown.

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Oh, but how I ached.

As the train's distant rumble brough me back to my grim reality, one where the train, in fact, wasn't broken and was, indeed, going to take me to work, I sighed. "I would do anything for a break."

As if watching over me, God answered my heartfelt prayer. My break had arrived, I suppose. I felt a 'pop' in my chest, then a rush. Then, a sudden, sharp, stabbing pain from my heart.

Agony coursed through me, raw, all-consuming. My knees buckled, leaving me tumbling onto the subway floor, frozen stiff in shock. It hurt. It hurt so much. Everything was turning white. Everything hurt. My mind was going blank - but I could hear it thumping.

Wait, how was my mind thumping? Or maybe it wasn't? No, it was thumping.

But, it didn't make any sense. I was too young. Was I dying?

I couldn't die yet. I had so much to do. I wanted to get married.

To have a wife.

To raise a kid.

To travel.

To live.

Around me, I could hear people screaming. Wait. No. That was me. My voice was raw. It hurt too. I was going to die. I wasn't ready to die. Blood was rushing to my head. Through my unimaginable pain, my vision fading, I could see people pointing at me. Paramedics rushing down. No. I wasn't going to die. I was going to survive. I had to survive. I was going to survive. Everything was okay. I was going to wake up. I was going to…

Everything faded into a blank nothingness. Well, perhaps, I shouldn't say 'nothingness.' The agony of dying persisted. All that was left was the pain. So much pain. Everywhere.

I had died.

….

When I opened my eyes next, I was no longer on Earth.

It was hard to describe how I knew, but I knew. It was an instinct - I could feel it from the tips of my toes to the lifted hairs on my arm. Ah, but the pain persisted! My body hurt everywhere - from my throbbing heart to my burning fingertips. The pain was still here ...but it wasn't? Death was more of a physical memory - burned into every corner of my body. Every fiber of my body ached and yet I was fine. I was whole again.

Wait... I was dead. Why was I able to think? My mind reeled, dulled by the pain of death.

I opened my eyes in shock; before me lay misty expanses, obscuring my vision. In the faded distance was hope - an exciting future. Beneath me, a marble staircase extended into the distance. In my periphery lay a bottomless abyss met by an unfathomable void.

Then, before I could begin to process what was happening, to consider this new universe, to ponder its opportunities, I moved from the center of the staircase, taking a step forward. My first step towards a better life, a happier life, a new world.

And I tripped.

On the next step.

I fell backward, onto stairs; they sent me rolling down for about twenty feet before I fully fell off the staircase. My vision was bloody - I could not see anything; I could hardly think. My head ached.

But, I could feel myself falling.

....falling for an eternity.

As my consciousness faded, I knew with certainty that I was going to die.

Feeling the pain grow, I allowed dark nothingness to embrace me.

And when I opened my eyes again, I had just died - in the stupidest way possible - for the second time that day.