My right hand just fell off. I say fell off but it actually just evaporated into dust and wafted away on the spring breeze. No blood pours like one would expect, just a ragged bone pokes it's head out of my wrist and that's all there is to see.
Eighteen years earlier. My teeth all just fell out. I had a tooth ache and I poked and prodded when snap. Just broke off like nothing at all. A trickle of blood showed itself to me and then just re-entered my gum. Soon after that, another tooth fell out and I almost swallowed it. Forty eight hours later, they were all gone.
One hundred years from now. And my head is alive, withered and toothless. Without sight nor sound in a glass jar. Every so often, probably once a day, I feel the food they put in my jar for me to eat. I gnaw at the liquid preserving my life, sucking the nutrientes from it. Sometimes, I can feel them brushing bits and pieces of food from my eye sockets or out of my ears. I must look just like a skull with prune ears.
When I was born. The doctor smacked my ass and I screamed and cryed and took my first breathe of life. My skin was rosey red and what hair I had was slicked back on my head from womb fluid. My mother was so happy, she was beaming.