Uh..Hello, I'm not quite dead

'Uh...hello?  I'm not quite dead.'  As funny as it sounds at first that's all I could think of to say.  Here I was buried in God's green earth but I'm NOT dead.  I mean you'd think I would know this don't you?  And still, I am buried.  They don't really bury you six feet under.  It's more like five, unless the guys who dug my bed just got lazy.  Either way, that doesn't excuse the fact that I'm not dead, does it?
At first I panicked. I clawed at the top of this casket.  My finger nails broke off and my finger tips are now bleeding.  Yup, my own blood is keeping me alive.  I'm not sure how much longer I can survive off my own blood, but for now it will have to do.  I have kicked at the coffin.  My feet are surely bruised.  I'm getting a little tired.  Fighting for your life is exhausting.
I am sure insanity is upon me.  Bugs continue to crawl on my body but how did they get here?  That's the 64 million dollar question.  Maybe they will eat me alive then I don't have to worry about the fact that I'M NOT DEAD.
Over and over I scream.  No one hears me.  I wonder if anyone realizes I am buried alive.  Will anyone save me?  Come to the aid of a damsel in distress, because if I have ever been in distress, it surely is now.  
Madness begins it's enternal descent into my mind.  Have you ever gone crazy?  It's really quite easy to do so, I think.  Before me faces fly by, some of them I know, some I don't.  My mother stands before me, saying something about how she told me so.  Man, you think she'd give me a break, I'm dead after all.  Or so she thinks.  I begin to shout at her 'please do shut up, I'm trying to think.'  She just keeps going on and on.
Once again I claw at the coffin, my hands are going numb.  I'm running out of breath...Oh my sweet Jesus, I'm coming home.  Wow, death is cold.  I don't like this.  I cry for my mommy, 'please, please help me.'
Finally I see the white light you hear about.  It blinds me so.  I hear voices, I've heard so many times before.
A light shines into my face.
'What's her problem?' I hear some little smart ass say.
'Oh, her...it's quite sad actually.  When she was a teenager she was kidnapped and buried alive.  She's never been sane since' Says some lady in a white dress.  I think she's an angel.
'Wow, how old is she now?'  Mr. Smartass again.
'She's 33 now, I doubt she'll ever make it out of here' says the angel.
Of course I'll never make it out of here, Einstien, I'm dead...