The Day I Die

I'm going to miss a lot of things.

My house, my parents, my bitch of a sister, my couch, my bed, my books, my dogs, my job, my money, my dinner, my sleep, my fish.....

..and everything else in this world down to the last speck of dust.

I'm going to miss it.

Dying isn't as scary as it seems. Many people think that dying is the worse thing that can happen to you, and well, it could be. But think about it. Would you rather endure the pain from animals gnawing away at your body, still conscious, and at a speed rate of a person trying to push a boulder up a mountain, or die instantly just so you don't have to suffer.

I would just die. End it. Why suffer?

I'm dying. I was shot by a gun for the love of God. Gangs are running up and down the streets, killing unfortunate people who were outside at witching hour. They're having a killing spree that's suppose to be 'fun'. For the predator, maybe. But not the prey. Now, who would be stupid enough to go outside at witching hour, you say? I was stupid enough. My job as a busboy at the bar requires me to take out the trash, and due to my lack of a watch, I was stupid enough not to notice what time it was. No one heard me yell for help as the hoodlums pointed a gun at my head. No one. Not even hobos, because they're all probably dead anyways.

Thankfully, the member that shot me had extremely horrible aim and shot my left collarbone instead of my head. They had thought they killed me, but unfortunately, they left me to rot at deaths door. Now, lying on the cold floor, I heard rats squeaking underneath the dumpsters, probably waiting for me to die so that they came at their free buffet of gun powdered human.

Great.

You're probably thinking, why be sarcastic now?

Well, I sure no ones going to even attempt to help me, so might as well have a little laugh now before I pass on. Somewhere in the back of my mind, a thought tells me that a few weeks from now, some little kid exploring the dark alleys of the city is going to find my rotting body sprawled on the ground in a puddle of semi dry blood with a few missing body parts, if the rats were really hungry. And I'm sure I'm going to be super unattractive. Maybe even more unattractive than crocs.

God knows why I care.

My parents are probably going to cry all day and all night, they're going to be like 'Im so sorry my baby! My poor baby..'. I would've though about the things I could of done before this unfortunate night, like getting a watch. Or maybe writing a will. Nah. I think getting a girlfriend should have been one of my top priorities. A girlfriend, and our unwound future.

I look up at the grey sky filled with stars. I wish I turn into a star when this body and my consciousness finally give out. Closing my eyes, I tried to choke out my name for the last time, for reassurance of something, but then my body felt numb.

I'm dying.

I'm finally dying

I'm dying...

............

I don't want to die.

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"AAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHH. Why the heck would I even try writing!?" Kim screamed. She was yanking her hair and banging her head on the purple wall of her bathroom with her iPad at her feet

She wrote this lame excuse of a story in a bathroom. A. BATH. ROOM.

No wonder this was a shitty story. She probably used her asswipe to edit it.

"SHUT UP NARRATOR"

No.

And that was the last story she ever wrote. In a bathroom.

LA FIN