Introduction

    We’re born, we live, we die. Cycle of life, right? Wrong. Don’t forget that we’re remembered. The whole point of living is to shape how we’re remembered.
    How will I be remembered? The pretty girl who shouldn’t have done it. The girl who had it all going in her favor. The stupid girl who wanted attention. So perhaps all that living didn’t mean much, being that how I die was going to shape how I was remembered.      And after all of that work; nineteen years of dedicated living, I was just going to become nothing but a memory. Not even a great one, but one that would disappear quickly. First I will be on everyone’s lips, on the front of all the papers. People would be digging up my past, trying to find out why I killed myself.  They won’t know though.
    Then something else will happen, a burning building full of puppies or something. People will forget that I ever existed and my memory will fade. I’ll occasionally cross someone’s mind, then get pushed out of their head by a commercial on TV or the piece of gum they stepped in. I’ll be nothing but a gentle whisper that is too soft to be heard. No one will care.
    So all in all, everything is for nothing. All of my achievements will be forgotten, my mistakes will be lost, my face a picture people won’t be able to remember. But it’s alright because this will make one person happy. It was meant to be, and so it is.
    My finger wrapped around the cold, unforgiving trigger. “Goodbye,” I whispered, before I squeezed it.

Author's Note

Constructive criticism?

Reviews

[Rena]

yet again from the heart
im guessing that you have a possibly dark past or present?
keep up the good work!

~rena~