Shooting Star…
Tags: Teenagers, Shooting Star, Suicide, Teen Suicide, Guns

When will I wake up? When will this nightmare of mine end? I remember years ago watching It’s a Wonderful Life with my father and loving the ending where the main character finds out that he was given the gift of taking a small glimpse into what the world would have been like without him in it. But the problem now is, I am living that “glimpse” and there will be no waking up for me. There will be no house filled with my friends and family telling me how much they love me and how much I am needed. There will never be singing and laughing while I look around and see that I am loved. I know my mom and dad love me, but I feel like it is a love that is just automatic because they’re my parents. They divorced a few years back and they both have moved on to make a better life for themselves; while my brothers and I are left in the dust like old luggage accidentally left on the side of the road after a traveler forgets about it while re-securing their load. They have new spouses that see my brothers and I as a nuisances and that is the new normal for us. After my step-mother is yet again ignoring me and my father is asleep on the couch, I carefully grab my hoodie from my bedroom and head out the door. The cold autumn air hits my lungs hard, but it is better than the suffocating air in that house. I carefully put my hoodie on and walk down to the park. Being that I am only fourteen years old, my main mode of transpiration is me walking in my chucks. I love this town that I have spent my whole life in. There is so much history and fascinating stories that I see myself as the towns local historian. I am constantly at the local library reading anything and everything I can about my town. My family has been in this sleepy little farming community for years and years. My mother and father were born and raised here and I am walking in the exact park that they met in. It is a beautiful little park. I sit above an irrigation canal that gives life to many farms in the are. Just sitting on a swing and watching the water is peaceful to me. This park is the place where so many of my birthdays were held. I can remember being younger and all my friends are surrounded by me excited about seeing what gifts I had just received. These are friends that I had grown up with; we went to preschool, kindergarten, and elementary school together. We were thick as thieves, but that all changed when we started middle school. I was the odd kid out. My parents didn’t make the kind of money their parents did, I didn’t have the name brand clothes, the cool haircut, or the popularity to now hang out with them. I looked at them from afar and I didn’t understand what happened. Childhood is a cruel part of growing up and it had finally taken its toll. Add that to my parents divorce, their new spouses, and the feeling of being invisible…it was time to just leave. I sit down on the cold/damp grass and I look up at the stars. The night is crystal clear and there are millions of stars out. I gaze up a them and just think. My hands go into the front pocket of my hoodie and I pull out a handgun. This is my fathers handgun. It is a 22 revolver and its heavy and cold in my hands. I take my eyes from the stars and look down at this gun. It was really easy to take. This town is a very conservative and gun loving town. Shooting is done all over out in the country and they are never kept in gun safes. I was invisible to everyone, so no one even noticed me when I went into my fathers room and grabbed it from his dresser drawer. No one will miss me. I will be news for a little while and then completely fade to nothing. I look up at the stars again. It truly is a beautiful night and I just look up at those stars. I don’t even realize that I start to put the gun up against my right temple. The world goes quiet and then it happens. I see a shooting star. But that shooting star is not one that I had ever seen before or would ever see again. The world instantly went dark and I silently but violently fall asleep.