WARNING: This story has some disturbing, saddening, and death related content.

Most of the time, when I hear about disasters on the news – deaths and in-humane acts and the likes – it doesn’t make me feel as sad as I think it should. Of course I wish that it didn’t happen, and I feel for those involved, but it doesn’t affect me on a deep, personal level. It simply happens, and I wish it didn’t, but there is nothing I can do and so I just carry on, somewhat indifferent.

Today I heard about a 3-car crash on a road near me. I heard how someone very close to me had cycled past it and seen the blood. How the blood was from someone who was now dead. I heard about what the person had looked like. Where they worked – which was in the town where I live. He was just a few years older than me, very young. Too young to die, or so they say. The evidence, however, would suggest otherwise.

This has brought out a sadness in me. It has disturbed me in a way which I did not expect from something that I was not immediately involved in.

Imagine seeing the blood. Going about your daily business, caught and lost up in your thoughts, and then seeing the dark red stains in the tarmac.

Imagine stopping and seeing the droplets on the roadside. From someone who no-longer thinks or speaks. They have no thoughts, no conscience, no opinions, no ideas. They are simply no more.

Imagine living for 20 years, and being in the middle of your day, doing your normal things, and suddenly everything being wasted. Half finished. A never-ending state of suspension where nothing feels complete. Where you were not ready to die, and those around you not prepared for a goodbye.

Imagine seeing the blood, the only stains left in this world, the only evidence of a person you never knew, on the roadside, simply existing because that is all that is left for them to do.

Imagine the pain and sorrow of seeing something so personal and essential to someone you never knew, and can never know.

It scares me to think of my own immortality. That everything I have worked towards and achieved and am living could be pointless. It scares me and makes me afraid to cross roads, to go outside, to do anything that might distract me from keeping myself alive and giving meaning and purpose to my actions.

To everyone reading this, please be careful. Please be aware of your surroundings, please don’t let it be your blood on the tarmac.