My last voice

   It was a normal cold, dreary, rainy Sunday in my little town. I was catching my breath at the tram stop while waiting for the number 11 to arrive and my thought's bounced from my parkour activities to something a bit more dark. I couldn't help, but wonder if at that moment there was a drive by who would I call and leave my final words to? At first I thought of my father, but I can't imagine putting him through such pain. Being so close, but unable to do anything, I think I'd break him. My thoughts then drifted to my brother, but he's so young and innocent. I couldn't scar him like that. Then I thought of friends- well I only really have 5 and three I immediately ruled out, because we just aren't that close. While the two left were so different yet exactly the same. I think of both as something akin to sisters- I feel undeserving of them in a way. Although I settled on one eventually. The one who's known me the longest. The one who's so far away from where I am she could never blame herself for what could happen. In a way I think she might have been pissed at me that I'd decide to call her instead of the police. She'd be angry with me for what I'd say. I think she'd cry for me, although I wish she wouldn't. Tears should not be wasted on me. Here's what my thought's brought me:
   The only thing I heard were the screeching of tires, before gunfire was let loose. In the chaos I had landed on the ground cover in glass from the broken tram stop and as soon as the shots started they ended. With tires once again speeding away. I try to stand, but immediately my body protests. Feeling the wetness on my hands I bring them into view and can see the dull red liquid on them. Looking down I can see it all around me. I'm the only one at the stop though, so it must be from me. No wonder I'm not panicking my body's trying to survive. My head feels heavy, so I stay there laying on the ground, trying to fish my phone out of my bag. I finally find it and slowly start to type in a number. The only number I know by heart that's still in use. It starts to ring and I wait for it to reach voice mail, as I know it will. It's too early for her to be up and even if she was, she never answers my call the first time. Finally I hear the annoying female operator and after the beep I start to talk. "Hey Morgan, it's me..... Listen sorry if I wake you but it might not ever happen again so don't get too angry, please?" I take a slow gasp and struggle with my breath, "I just wanna say 'thank you' and I'm sorry for being such a jackass friend." I can't help but laugh at this part. "I'm hurt, real bad and I'm not sure I'll survive." My breathing becomes more labored and even though I can hear the sirens in the background I know it's too late. "Can you tell my brother I'm sorry, as well? Give him a hug for me? I'm so sorry. So sorry. I was awful to both of you, but I love you both so much and I feel terrible for leaving you." I can tell it's over, but I struggle, "Live, live your lives. Be happy and move forward. I love you. Thank you and I'm sorry." My breath ends with this and my vision quickly fades. With my last strength I hang up. There's no reason to let her hear my final halfhearted breaths. The last thing I see is the headlights of the bright red number ll tram making it's way toward my stop.
   Is it cruel of me to record my dieing words on my best friends answering machine? Is it cruel that the only two people I had in mind was Morgan and my brother and not my parent's? Maybe it's because my biggest regret is leaving them behind and never being able to apologize to them for that. Maybe it's because I'm still angry with my mother that I don't have her in mind. As for my father I think it'd hurt him too much. He'd torture himself with the message. The biggest question: Is it strange that one of my first thoughts for the year 2014 were "I hope I die this year" ? It's sad, but at the end of the day I can't help but wish for it all to end. My existence is pointless, useless. I'm a waste of space and air. My only wish is to be cremated and my ashes put back where they belong- in the dirt.

Maybe I'll see you around, or maybe not.