Wasted.

Don couldn't remember the last time he had felt really happy. He felt as if his whole life was based off of what other people wanted of him.

He felt like a test tube under 24 hour surveillance. He was one of the kids who was likely to get bullied. 

Average height, scrawny with those eyes that wandered and let his emotions flow freely. The other kids called him every name out there.

Prick, loser, fat and many others. They labeled him, and when you put a label on someone they live up to it.

He would never forget all the pain and suffering his classmates had put him through.  

He still remembered the good times before people were mean. When people had smiled at him and nobody ever made him feel worthless.

These days the only time he felt normal was when Don would sit and hook up his ears to him lifeline, music. He loved music so much that he was sure he would die for it someday. He had never had the privilege to learn music or do really anything that he actually enjoyed.

Don was done trusting people.

His Dad had broken his trust more often than not.

Even though his mom had never cried in front of him he had seen the aftermath of her tears and bruises.

His dad was a bully to his mom and he knew her pain more than he had let on.

Those nights that he used to hear his parents fight he would cry himself to sleep. People say that real men don't cry, but that can't be true because he was the man for his mom yet he cried more and more often.

He felt much older and more knowledgeable than people thought of him as, but he would make people pay someday for the anger he had to feel now someday.

 

***

 

Don sat in his office, barely able to understand how he had come so far without losing it completely.

On his wall there were plenty of certificates and diplomas to show his status in his company.

He had come far, yet he had remained very closed while doing it.

All along he felt his heart yearning to just drop his status, leave his company and follow his dreams.

He wanted to do that but he felt it to be unreasonable. Barely anyone successfully follows their dreams, especially when it came to the music industry. 

 

Changing the path of his life seemed exciting yet unreasonable and if he would tell someone what he was thinking of doing he was positive that they would surely tell him that he was acting ridiculously.

One thing was for sure: he hadn't had it easy at al. everything he had he had worked for. While he watched his classmates get big in life he remained the same and it stuck him as strange. All he had every wanted was to enjoy life but it didn't seem like it was going to happen. He had a low self-esteem, not many friends, and nothing that made him happy. Life sucked. He considered ending it quite often but he realized that he wouldn't be able to pain his mom like that. He just kept on going.

 

***

When don was late into his 40s he still felt the same. He thought that with age his problems would just fade away, but it really doesn't work like that. He felt his respect for people dissipating. He had scary dreams of other people harming him and he would wake up in a cold sweat. He wished he could be normal so badly. But wishing only takes you so far. He felt like a raindrop falling really fast from the sky, splattering on anything in his way. Breaking up into bits. It hurt him physically. He lived alone in a small loft. The only thing in his life he took pride for was the fact that he had moved out of his mom’s house. He thanks heaven that he had enough money for cleaning help. He felt no reason to clean on his own. He had gotten an invitation to a college reunion today. Without Brenda he would never have looked at it. Without her his loft would be a pig sty. The first step of depression is the feeling of not wanting to get up in the mornings. Not wanting to see the sun. He had that first step in 4th grade. He hoped he wasn't too far along to be happy. Hopefully he would go. He wanted to. He could still socialize a little bit, right?                           

 

***

 

Don stayed on the side. He had just arrived at the reunion party. No one had come over to talk to him yet. He didn't care. He was used to it. He wondered what would happen tonight. Hopefully something exciting would happen. So far he felt awkward; exactly what he had hoped wouldn't happen. Nothing ever went his way. Across the room he saw the kid from his class who had tormented him the most. He could still hear the laughs of the other student around him when he had been ashamed by him. His hands went into his pockets- a usual thing for him to do. it was a habit life biting your nails except it helped him feel secure. Suddenly his hands jumped. The sound of a bullet rang out. The once upon a time bully, fell to the ground, a round gaping hole between his eyes. Don’s hands shook he felt scared inside and it showed outside too. Next to fall was his high school nemesis. Though half of him hated himself for doing this the other half of him felt the bittersweet feeling of revenge. 

It was all he had wanted, more shots rang out. It was an out of body experience. only half of him was doing this. His head hurt. His hand hurt. His heart hurt. He squeezed his eyes shut. This was it. He couldn't believe he was actually going to do this. He put the Glock between his lips and fired it. That was it. In his last moment he felt so much regret. Regret for not saying goodbye to his mom. Regret that he didn’t follow his lifelong dreams. Regret for the fact that he didn't stand a chance of going to heaven. Regret that he had killed people. Regret, most of all, for not taking his pills. Don was Bipolar. Don was a child. Don was a man. Don was a demon. Don was innocent. 

Don had killed no one in his life but himself. 

Don was a person with an imagination that overtook him, and moods that overthrew him. 

Don't feel bad for Don. He is in a better place.

Author's Note

Bullying across America has gotten out of hand. Make sure nobody ends up like Don. Open your heart. Love.

Reviews

[gabrielle]

This is a very sad story you have in here. Every person is unique. If only those around him had shown empathy, his life would not be wasted. Nicely penned.

[Cici B. Cee]

Thanks for the review and i agree!

[hurdur]

Not bad. Not bad at all. The only problems I can see are your formatting. You need to indent and stop making new paragraphs so frequently. But you've got the one thing that counts: and that is talent.

[Cici B. Cee]

Thank you James Lee ... I apologize for the poor formatting. My computer is a bit weird and didn't let me fix it :(

[Mickey]

Love it! :D