There are two seconds in everyone's life that can change everything that you are and everything that you will be. There are two seconds that can make others think highly of you or look down upon you for the rest of your life. I always wondered what my two seconds would consist of. Moreover, I wondered whether I would make the right decision . . . that is if there is a right decision to be made at all.

For a long time, I though Atlanta was the turning point of my life . . . or maybe the two seconds after I was stabbed. I became a new person after those few seconds . . . I became someone I hated. I couldn't look at myself in mirrors . . . I didn't keep myself up the way I used to. I was disgusted with everything about me. I used drugs to mask my self-loathing attitudes . . . to mask myself. But that wasn't the pivotal turning point in my life.

Five minutes after I was stabbed by Paul Sobricki . . . It was eerie watching the clock move so slowly . . . praying that someone would find my medical student and me before we were dead . . . I closed my eyes. I had two seconds to decide whether I would open my eyes again.

I didn't have an angelic vision where all my departed family and friends came to me . . . I didn't see images of my past . . . there wasn't a brightly lit tunnel. It was different . . . when my eyes were closed, all I saw was blackness. I wondered if that would be the last time that I ever saw blackness . . . it was a moment that many of us overlook . . . would never concern ourselves with.

I had to open my eyes up . . . I had to take in the rest of the world. There are little things that I would have never thought to pay attention to . . . that now take on a whole new meaning. The cotton on the end of a swab lying on the floor was wound in a counterclockwise fashion. A discarded tongue depressor has an end that is slight concave. I spent my last few conscious seconds thinking about trivial things . . .

My decision to open my eyes reaffirmed by decision to live. I believe that if I had closed my eyes . . . I would have given up on life. It wasn't easy to live through the last few years . . . the addiction highs and lows, the back spasms, the chronic pain, the fear of becoming addicted again. It scares me to death that I made all the wrong decision in the past year, but I am glad that I am alive.

It wasn't that I was too young to die. I've seen hundreds of people younger than me die . . . die horrible painful deaths. I had too many regrets to die . . . I hadn't told my parents that I love them lately . . . I hadn't been a fair teacher . . . I hadn't resolved issues with many of my past girlfriends . . . I hadn't made my impression on the world. I needed to do all these things before I could die . . . I'm not in a hurry to complete my to do list, but I figured that I needed to at least start.

Every day, I try to do something new or make an effort to reconnect with my family or friends. I do volunteer work at one of the crisis hotlines . . . it's something I can relate to and appreciate the importance of. It's becoming a big part of who I am becoming.

I'm sorry I couldn't write each of you a separate personal letter. I needed the time to live . . . we'll never know when the next two seconds comes.

John T. Carter

Anna stared at the letter trying to comprehend the enormity of who John had become and who John was evolving into. They hadn't kept in touch since she ran away from her feelings for him . . . she had been a coward. Now, she wished that she would have made an effort to stay in touch with him . . . to help him . . . to try to understand how special he was and the wisdom that he had gained.

She laid on her bed with the letter clutched tightly to her chest. Thoughts and images of John passed through her mind. One of him soaked blood . . . another of him kissing her. Anna wondered what was her two seconds . . . and did she make the right decision.