So, I died today or at least I must have. I can see myself laying on a hospital bed. I look mostly okay, but I can't see under the blanket. Whatever's going on under there is probably what did me in. I'm not alone so at least there's that. I smile when I see who's with me. Who else would it have been? Whether now or when I was old, those two would have been the ones by my side.

Doctors and nurses run into the room herding out my friends who are panicked and crying. A doctor is doing CPR, but it's useless. I want to stay to see how this thing ends, but I realize it already has. I'm dead and now I'm floating up and away, but I can't tell where. Heaven maybe or the afterlife? Will there even be an afterlife? I feel like maybe this is a test I didn't study enough for and might fail.

I didn't grow up going to church so I've lived my short life agnostic at best. I wouldn't say atheist. I can't be sure there isn't some large bearded man in the sky though I have to say, it seems unlikely. There could also be an endless void once we die and life is meaningless. Damn, that's depressing. I hope it isn't that. It's probably not though because my soul or ghost or whatever is still flying around. Phew! That's a load off.

It was all too much for me to think about in life so I just lived the best I could. I'm not perfect. I "sinned" and not asked for forgiveness. I don't think I'm a bad person though.

I'm a twenty-one year old dude from a small town in Idaho. What do I know? The answer is: pretty much nothing. Young adults like to think they know it all, but really, we're clueless.

Where I grew up the major religions are Mormon and Catholic. There's a few different Christian denominations scattered around town and some Jehovah Witnesses that keep to themselves. Each one wants to tell you how different they are, but most of them are the same. They preach the same shit and put a different name on it.

I was never baptized but I don't feel like I missed anything. I'm a little worried now though. What if I don't get into heaven because of that? That's one of the things most religions agree on. I might be screwed, but what can I do now?

My life hasn't been anything amazing. In fact, it's been exceedingly average. In twenty-one years I haven't done anything exceptional or great. I am just here, gliding through life...well not anymore, I guess.

The only notable thing in my life has been Mia. She was everything to me from the moment I met her. Mia was my best friend when I didn't have one. She was my confidant and my shoulder to lean on. She was the love of my life and then we both made decisions that got in the way.

I was born in Washington state and lived there until I was ten. My parents are still married and I'm an only child. I was happy in Washington. I had a plethora of friends in my neighborhood and at school and life couldn't have been better. That was until my dad got a job in some small town no one has ever heard of or even seen on a map in Idaho. Who the hell even lives in Idaho? All I knew about it is that it's the potato state.

I moved to Idaho half way through fifth grade and I had no friends there. At first, I had the friends that the school kind of gave me. The middle school I went to had these volunteers to show new kids around. The dude I got was named Bryce and my god, even at eleven, he was the world's biggest dick. No, he didn't have the world's biggest dick, he was the dick. I was pretty sure Bryce only signed up so he could get a line on all the kids he could either recruit to his circle or bully until depression set it. Poor kids.

Bryce introduced me to his friends, jocky types, which didn't go with my budding emo look. They were also jerks wrapped up in buff little bodies and I HATED them. They bullied people and they hung out with girls that were dumb as rocks. These were the girls that would become merciless cheerleaders in high school.

I hung with Bryce and his buddies for two days before I couldn't take it anymore and decided being a loner was better than dealing with that shit. Loniless, anger, and puberty don't mix well.

Come sixth grade, I still didn't have any friends but I knew people well enough to know which ones I hated, Bryce and all his friends included. Boy were there some jack offs in my middle school besides them though. I got into a lot of fights in sixth grade.

I thought the rest of my school experience was going to be like this and I dreaded having six more years of that shit.

With shitty kids bullying constantly and the school doing nothing about it, no wonder some kids felt like there was no way out, no light at the end of the tunnel.

I'm a pretty tall dude. I've always been tall for my age and by sixth grade I was already five six. That's six inches taller than the average sixth grader. That made for a lot of jokes and verbal bullying, but most kids were smart enough not to get into physical altercations with me.

I stood up for the little guys though and since I didn't take him up on his offer of friendship the year before, Bryce was brave—or dumb— enough to take a swing at me in response. It ended badly for him and I got suspended even though he started it. At least my parents weren't upset. They were proud of me for standing up for others.

I think my parents felt bad for what I was going through since they decided to move and put me in that situation. They gave me a lot of leeway when it came to my bad attitude and general shittiness towards them and everyone else.

My behavior to them wasn't fair, but to a twelve year old kid whose life was made miserable, what did I care what was fair or not. Mom and Dad certainly didn't think of that when they made me move to Idaho.

I only went to school then straight home for two years. I wasn't involved in any extra curricular activities. I didn't want to deal with people more than I already had to. I stayed in my room from the time I got home till I went to school listening to loud music that my parents hated.

I ate dinner with my parents and I did my chores. I was a miserable kid but I wasn't a brat. I helped around the house even if I was huffy about it.

After moving to Idaho, I changed the way I dressed. I have black hair already so I grew it out past my ears like Bieber before Bieber was a thing. I wore skinney jeans, mostly black in color with black shirts featuring one band or another. I like the checkered slip on Van's and the seat belt checkered belt. I wore a beanie all the time. Thus my emo look.

I wasn't a poser though. I had a skateboard and I would skateboard around town with my headphones in listening to more loud music. People stayed away from me for the most part. I don't know if it was because of the way I looked, I did look like a punk, or if it was because I exuded an air of unapprachableness. Whatever it was, I was glad for it at the time. I didn't need friends, I didn't want friends...until Mia and Wyatt.