I keep having a recurring dream...
20th of December 2017.
Locked in a staff room.
This is a drill.
This is NOT a drill.
I was shaking in true spastic fashion.
The people that are fortunate enough to believe in a higher power preying.
A firearm.
All now made sense.
The college lockdown.
The fear.
I was not scared.
I was frustrated.
If they shoot let me catch the bullet.
Sacrifice the Spastic for the able-bodied.
He's already broken.
Let me play a hero.
Save those who aren't broken.
Who doesn't think about death daily?
Save those who will amount to more.
I do not fear death.
They can take me to join the stars I do not care.
This is not 'the coward's way out'.
Death with pride and dignity.
My life would have finally found purpose in protecting others.
A sacrifice for the greater good.
If I lived through the shrapnel.
I would have put my broken body to use.
I could finally be proud.
I could finally protect others.
Someone start peeling the grapes.
Would have finally fought for something worth the combat.
Been a soldier.
Been a hero.
Been something more than numb.
I relive the events of that day at least once a week.
They did not shoot.
-XR
YOU ARE READING
Moments of gladness, moments of sadness & everything in-between.
ŞiirI'm an 18 year old boy with Cerebral Palsy, depression and anxiety. I'm a British Hipster Punk Fuck who has dreams of happiness and independence. Living with my difficulties can be saddening and difficult so to cope I draw (follow my Instagram: ale...
