Attacks. I have had attacks, not of bullets and bombs but of panic that makes me tremble. I never thought I'd write this piece, I never thought I'd dwell this long. With a long deep sigh, I closed my eyes and feel the cold breeze as I held on my pen. "Where was I again?" a thought that always brings me back. Oh right! I was writing my eulogy, with a broken smile, this is how I want people to remember me. I am Kita Hart, a young professional striving to survive. Death is not the end but a beginning I choose to begin and this is my story.