I had a friend. He was pretty smart.
But one day, he did the dumbest thing of his life.
It was the last thing of his life.
He pulled a trigger while aiming at the floor.
Then again…at his head.
Within these few moments, many lives changed.
An innumerable number of lives. All hurt.
The most hurt were the most loved.
Would I be writing this if he only thought about them?
Probably not. If it was power he desired, he got it.
If he wanted to make a difference, he did it.
The difference was the hurt my love felt.
He hurt her. Almost killed her with the same bullet.
In some ways, he did kill her.
He hurt my love. She was his love too.
So he said. Then he killed her.
He felt nothing. She felt everything.
Back then, I was jealous.
I secretly hoped things wouldn’t work out.
Now that he killed her, I want him back.
That way she’ll be happy and alive.
He had made his getaway by the time the shot killed her.