Change

With every freak accident comes a story, usually tragic, and believe me, mine was, but this one could mean the end of the world as everyone knew it. Now, I never wanted to die, I had a good home life, there wasn't drug use or any form of abuse in my home, and even though I didn't get along with my mother all the time she cared about me. A lot. The story I'm about to tell could ruin lives, but if not for the ending of this story, it could end them.
My English teacher taught me that a good story is simply one that made you feel something, but this story doesn't have an antagonist. Then again, maybe there is an antagonist. Maybe it's the negative emotions, maybe it's all of us, or maybe I learned that we never truly blame ourselves for anything; I still don't blame myself, nor anybody else.
As much as I'm avoiding it, I need to tell this story. I need someone to know, that when it happens again, to put a stop to it.