My life was terrible. I died at the age of 13. I was bullied when I was young, the older kids made fun of my glasses and the way I walked. When I was in third grade my parents divorced and I had to move to a different school. In the new school I made no friends until eighth grade, my father got me a dog named Mr. Biscuit he was my only friend, he was the only thing in the world that brought me joy and happiness.
My mom got me the hour before my death, I got my bag and kissed my dad and Mr. Biscuit good bye for the last time. My mom was tired because she drove all night to get me. She was not looking when she turned, we got into a wreck. There was pain, there was silence, there was darkness. I was dead, my terrible life was over.
