Dodging Bullets

From Black Sand Journal

The hardest bullets to dodge are the ones I see coming. The moment of recognition deteriorates into hypnotic fascination before my body expresses a desire to move. Then, BAM. I'm hit. There is blood everywhere. I clumsily grasp at tissues, attending to the crimson mess that my fatal wound is spluttering before I dare admit feeling pain. I've lost so much blood that there is no feeling left.

I suppose there are no easy bullets to dodge, but ignorance serves me better than anticipation. I tend to bring these things upon myself.