What do I want? It’s a question I often ask myself, with no answer in sight. It’s a question I often return to, never having an answer no matter how many times I ask myself. Does that mean I have nothing to live for? I don’t think that’s it. I think I’m happy and I have people that I care about and people that care about me. I don’t think my life is particularly unique but it is definitely worth living. I got off the bus, and walked toward my home.

I often thought about this when I was confronted by others asking about my future. I’ve reached the age where people have started expecting me to be something. I don’t know what I want to be or why I do the things I do. I just do them. Is that so strange? How can I know my future when I don’t even know myself right now? I wish people would stop asking. I know that they have their own ideas about my future and are pushing me toward them. I don’t want to be pushed into something. Even if I end up enjoying it or reaching fulfillment. Is that really something I can call my own path? This was not the first time I had these doubts. I already knew… I would wonder these exact things again tomorrow… I sighed, looking forward. My home was only a block away now. I didn’t want to finish up my homework at home. Wasn’t the work done in school enough? I was feeling quite dejected. Something creative will make me feel better. Maybe I should write a story. That usually made me feel better.

Bang!

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I slumped forward, feeling a piercing pain in my forehead. I pressed my fingers to the source of the ache. Blood. A never-ending flow came from my head.

Only questions flooded my mind. I was lost for words. Was I… dying? My slumped body’s knees were pressed to the ground. I fell to the side, my head hitting the side of the pavement. A scarf entered my vision. I forgot I was wearing this today. The red scarf soaked up a portion of the blood. The scarf was red, and barely changed in color after blood seeped in.

It was then that a tear dropped from the corner of my eye.

“I haven’t got to do anything with my life yet…” I realized.

I choked up for a moment and said,

“How can I become something like this?”

At that question, my eyes lost their focus. I exhaled and my eyes gently closed. Seventeen years of my life were wasted, rendered null.

August 23, 2024; Twelfth Grader Reim Listeich was the first to be killed in a series of indiscriminate killings. The culprit was shot in the chest by a responding officer and died within the night due to complications caused by the gunshot.