Few people have the priviledge of knowing when they're going to die.

As I stepped on the train on that fateful day, I knew that time had run out for the old me. The 'Me' my family knew, and, looking back, probably loved, was going to pass silently into non-existence. Had to, when you think about it, for the sake of survival.

That sweet, uncorrupted, introverted reliant was going to disappear, to be replaced by me, and what I've become.

Did I force her to die? Too right! But, am I guilty of murder? Quite possibly, but I prefer to think of it as self-preservation. Afterall, how long would she have lasted on her own?

I, however, am still here, still strong, and very much alive.

Few people have this priviledge. Fewer still, want it. I personally don't, not now. But then, on that day, she knew I was coming, and I knew that she was on her way out.