I died.

In retrospect, I should've expected it to happen, but danger never feels real until all of the sudden, you're in a dangerous position.

Growing up in a small town in Southern California, I developed some pretty terrible habits due to the lack of crime. For instance, I never locked my door, always walked to the grocery store late at night, and always counted my money on the streets. It never mattered where I once lived since literally nothing happens (besides car crashes).

This proved to be fatal, though, once I moved to Chicago. The great city of crime! I always thought the rumors and hype surrounding the city were over exaggerated, and they mostly were. It was just like any other urban city. What I didn't realize was that life here was far different from the suburbs. I couldn't go around waving my money on a walk outside without expecting to get mugged.

And that's exactly what happened.

In my mind, I knew that it was much more dangerous in Chicago than my old town. It was never something I acknowledged due to lack of exposure. Since I didn't see it, it wasn't real. Even though I knew, I still couldn't believe.

That pocket knife pressed up against my ribs along with a meaty, hairy arm against my neck definitely changed my mind. From what I could tell, the man easily had 100 pounds on me, so much bigger that pulling me into the nearby alley was a breeze.

Moving lips near my ear demanded, "Give me all your money." His voice was raspy like he just chain smoked a pack of cigarettes. I seized up in fear. This cannot be happening, I thought. Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. Every single part of my body stiffened, but I somehow managed to move my shaking fingers to my wallet and take out my card and cash.

His arm, reaching down from the position across my neck, easily snatched the stash. My mind processed this and prematurely celebrated, Oh God, it is over. It's going to be okay. I'm going to be okay! I started to smile and-What the fuck!

That bitch stabbed me anyway! This hurts so much!

I screamed. I had never been in so much pain all my life! I couldn't even get a glimpse at my mugger's face since he ran down the alley, most likely to escape any authorities. In the back of my mind, I registered voices calling for help and for someone to call an ambulance. No relief was felt, however, when the worst pain in my life commanded my attention instead. Collapsing, my head felt woozy, and I got double vision. This pounding headache became worse and worse. I can feel myself losing consciousness. Just before it slipped, I faintly heard the telltale sirens of an ambulance. Oh, I'm going to be fine, was my last thought in this lifetime.

The next time I regained consciousness felt like a dream. Opening my eyes, all I could see was infinite darkness. All I could feel was comfort and warmth. Huh, this isn't so bad, ran through my mind. If this is what death is like, I'm not going to mind.

I could hear as well. Sometimes, there would be murmuring voices that sing in a comforting tone. I felt loved here.

However, my optimism shifted after several months. I cannot stand another second, I thought. It feels too confining, too boring, and I am going crazy! There was literally nothing to do! Sure, it feels nice, but I want to have some more stimulation! Frankly, this is boring.

Kicking out in frustration, my foot hit a wall. Albeit, it was soft and squishy but still something physical. I became horrified. The prospect of spending eternity in a squishy small prison with nothing to do terrified me. Is this Hell? I wonder. I didn't sin though! Sure, I lied to my parents a few times and slept around, but so many people do too! Never in my life did I purposefully harm someone with malicious intentions. So that can't be right.

My only salvation in boredom became kicking that wall from time to time. That was the only thing in this prison I can do besides listening in on vaguely present voices.

For a few more months, it seemed like my prison was getting tighter and tighter. I felt claustrophobic when it became hard to even swing at the wall. There was nowhere for me to move! Anytime I tried moving anything, I was stopped by that same softness I often kicked. Maybe this was punishment for my relentless abuse on the prison.

Then, the pressure built up against my head. It was so weird! Like someone trying to squeeze my head in a toddler's sweater. Finally, that pressure popped! Light flooded my vision, so bright compared to the months of darkness that I immediately closed my eyes. They were still squeezing the rest of my body, so I couldn't relax.

"Push, push, Lady Ursa!" a female voice shouted. "You've got the head out! You are almost there!" What the fuck is happening, I thought to myself. It sounded like this Ursa is giving birth, from the screams that joined that voice. From the recent dialogue and the pressure I felt, I was able to put two and two together and piece out that I was being born, holy shit. Jesus Christ, this cannot be real.

But it is! The rest of my body slid out of Ursa (ew), and the two midwives wrapped me in a soft cloth after wiping away the post-birth fluid. "What's wrong with her? She isn't crying," I heard. Oh yeah, babies need to cry after they're born. Totally forgot about that. That isn't an issue though. After dealing with months of pent up frustration, I easily started crying. In fact, I felt so overwhelmed and stressed that I sobbed harder than I would've thought. Screaming my pain away never felt so good.

Because the honest truth is that I died. I sort of knew back in the womb, but it didn't feel real until my rebirth. Only then did it hit me that my whole entire life is lost, I can never see my family and friends again, and it felt like I worked so hard for nothing. In my past life, I pushed myself extremely hard in academics so I would be able to have a financially stable career. Around once a month, I cried of stress, but felt hope because it would all pay off after college. But it wasn't worth it. If I knew I would die so young, then I would have spent more time doing what makes me happy.

There was so much more I wanted to accomplish, and I am not ready to die. And then, it hit me that I would never see my parents, grandparents, and brother. Never again could I ride around town with my older brother, eat my grandma's food, or crack jokes with my dad. I hate that so much. I miss them so much.

I sobbed harder and harder. I barely registered the sarcastic, "Well, she's crying now," when my body was moved to someone's arms - Ursa, most likely. She started speaking, softly murmuring, "Oh baby, what's wrong? Calm down, dear. There's nothing to worry about now," and gently shook me in her arms. This type of comfort made me cry even harder though. The love and care she showed me really reminded me of my mom and made me miss her even more.

Throughout my mourning, the adults in the room began a conversation. "Have you decided a name yet?" one of the ladies asked. Ursa replied, "Yes, Prince Ozai and I settled on Zuko, whether or not our baby is male or female." "That's a fine name," the other lady said. I couldn't make out much more when exhaustion caught up to me. My cries grew softer and softer along with my energy which just seemed to slip away. So many events occured today, and sooner or later, I drifted off into deep sleep.

Something was off about that conversation. There was this niggling thought in the back of my mind that this was wrong. That my birth was wrong. The names Ursa, Prince Ozai, and Zuko sound awfully familiar.

Back in my old life, there was a cartoon called Avatar: The Last Airbender. I loved that show so, so much. It was basically my childhood. I remember roleplaying with my cousins the different elements, where I would pick water since I wanted to be Katara. After a year, I then began to pick air. Like Aang, I realized I was a pacifist and hated fighting of any sort. My 8 year old brain thought I could just blow the enemies away.

Before we grew out of it, I would always pick either water or air. Never earth since I thought it wasn't feminine. Never fire since I thought it was evil. Zuko hadn't redeem himself yet when I was roleplaying so in turn, I didn't want to play the villain. It also offended me on a personal level since again, I hate fighting. Fire was destruction and pain.

Later on, I fell in love with Zuko in my teenage years. I always admired how he was able to turn his life around and be good. I still hated firebending though. Whenever I fantasized about being a bender, I once again imagined myself as either a water or airbender.

It's an absolute joke that I was reborn as Zuko. It's an absolute joke that I was reborn as a firebender. My personality is nothing like fire! I'm a coward! If Ozai thought original Zuko was a terrible bender, then oh boy, what's he going to think about me?

At least he had anger and jealousy to fuel him on. I literally did not care for combat of any sort. Azula is a prodigy, and good for her! I will gladly cheer on my sister.

Oh my God. There is no way I can help Aang with his quest. I don't want to fight, and more importantly, I don't want to die. Not again. Even though it was a children's show, there was so much violence and fighting in that (this) universe. I don't think I can deal with that.

Okay, how can I ensure my survival without dooming the Gaang? Step 1: Be a terrible firebender. Or a nonbender. Step 2: Make sure Azula is the Crown Princess. Step 3: Do not interrupt the war council and get challenged to an Agni Kai. Step 4: Convince Uncle Iroh to help out the Avatar. Step 5: Live.

If I am terribly incompetent, then no one would trust me with anything. I can be confined to the Palace where I cannot be harmed.

Okay, that's all I have to do, all I have to do.