my first neardeath was before memory.
a starving infant on an orphanage doorstep. survival measured in hours, not days. someone found me. someone saved me. i do not remember any of this, obviously. the whole thing is family mythology with paperwork.
still, i picture the doorstep sometimes.
then six years old, choking on chicken at the dinner table. vision going dark at the edges. my adopted dad picked me up and squeezed, again and again, until the chicken came loose and air returned like someone had opened a window.
afterward everyone kept eating because what else do you do? the plate was still there. peas, potatoes, the offending chicken. i remember the embarrassment more than the fear.
twelve years old, showing off for friends, kicking through the glass panel of our hall door. artery cut. blood on the wooden floor. the towel went red too fast.
in the car to the hospital i watched streetlights smear across the window and tried not to look at my leg. someone kept telling me to stay awake. i hated that because i really wanted to sleep.
twenty three in berlin was the latest one.
bright afternoon, wrong turn, oncoming traffic. headlights growing larger even in daylight. swerving, hitting the island, flying. there was a very calm second in the air where my brain had no useful suggestions.
then ground.
afterwards my heartbeat was weirdly slow. traffic kept moving. my phone was dead in my pocket, which felt rude. no way to call anyone, no dramatic emergency contact moment. just me limping home with a torn jacket and one scraped hand.
i slept eighteen hours.
the death-as-a-character thing may be retrospective. probably is. brains love making a person out of a pattern. mine wears dark clothes and has excellent timing.
but the pattern is real enough.
there are versions of me where the chicken stayed, the glass cut deeper, the scooter landed badly. i do not think about them often. when i do, it is usually while doing something stupidly normal: buying milk, waiting at a crossing, checking whether my phone has enough battery.
near misses do not make life grand.
they make it oddly specific.
charge your phone. chew properly. do not kick glass doors.