If I thought that my life would become a crazy, about-to-shit-in-my-face-mess I don't think I would have been so utterly stupid and dealt with a lot of the things that went on in my life before the incident.  For example I don't think I would have put up with Jason Burry's shit, or his rude remarks about my body fat in middle school gym class.  (Not that I cared about a little junk in my trunk).  I also wouldn't have tolerated Jama Vinson and her 'skankness' when she convinced Tyler Benard to cheat on me freshman year.  And God knows I would have knocked Carrie Lynord out, along with her teeth, when she said I was a whore because I almost had sex with Bryson Andrews, the only boy who I thought loved.

But the irony about life and destiny, chance, whatever you want to call it is, you don't know when shit is going to hit the fan in life.  Only a pessimistic word-I-won't-say would think they are going to be kidnapped, or possibly even a psychotic pessimistic word-I-won't-say.  Either way, you're still a pessimistic.

The most absurd aspect of life is, it seems as if life is already planned out for you. One idiot who leaves a wake of destruction after them like an aftershock of an earthquake can completely turn life into a living hell.  Series of events based off of one chance action can forever alter your future, leaving a mark.  Something could have happened a dozen, heck, even a hundred different ways, but the one action that happens changes everything- and at the time the action doesn't seem all that big.

You might think your life is bad now.  You might even go as far as thinking it's terrible but what you need to remember is that there's (almost) always a plus side to situations.  Let's call it a silver limning, shall we?  I believe God hands out good and bad almost always hand in hand, taking a mere morsel of the suffering away and providing hope when it seems as if all odds are against you.  The catch is, he doesn't give that luxury to just anyone; he left me out of the equation.

When you are feeling low or sad, just remember you're living on a silver limning, and situations could always be worse.

You could be me.

Ah, well, you see, I'm dead.  Actually, dying to be precise.  Bleeding out like a stuck cow, slowly but definitely dying.  Before I didn't fully understand how privileged I was to live.  They say your life flashes before your eyes when you die, or you have seven minutes to relive it all, but I find that's not the case.  In fact, my mind floats to one person in particular:  Him.

I lay on the cold ground, blood pooling around me and wonder if he knows of the betrayal.  Not that anyone probably knows that at the moment.  But a girl can dream, right?

My hair is a mangled mess.  Dirt coats my bare arms and legs like a second skin.  My memory slowly fades.  I don't remember what the sunlight looks like, or how the wind feels when it presses against my skin.  I don't remember how his lips felt against mine. 

At this moment, if I could wish to die in someone's arms I would choose his a thousand times over.

My heart aches for him. I missed him with every fiber in my body, every ounce of my soul. I mourn the loss of his arms wrapping around my body, a cocoon of safety and love. It's been weeks, months- maybe years even- and through the haze of death I can still fight through and remember how his touch sent my body into overdrive like it was yesterday. He held me at my darkest hours, and now he doesn't even realize I'm right under his nose, right within reach.

I wish I could have kissed him one last time.  Now I am forgotten.

People in my town, high school, and church might forget about me, deem me as the girl who will never be found. My parents might mourn for the rest of their lives, have a funeral with an empty casket, hell, they might even divorce due to the undying grief of their lost little girl. The man I love might move on in a few years, find another girl not quite as broken as I was when we first met, and marry her. He might even have kids, though he told me that he didn't want any, just to make his wife smile. History and human intervention may try to wipe my existence off of the face of the earth.  My murderer will try to discard my existence to ease his consequence, but I will never forget, not that a dying girl can do much change in the world. I might forget the small things, like the look of my house or the warm smell of summer, but I will never forget who brought me here, or how I was betrayed.

Believe me when I say I was a stupid, naive little girl.

Now I pay the price.

But instead, it is I who sits here, rotting away. If I was given the chance, I would go back and re-do it all.

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Edited on December 7, 2016.
777 words.