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The one thing you forgot...

by

B. Hopewell

Why did you have to be so hard? I know who you are. Remember me? I remember you. I knew you when you were young. I remember when it was ok for you to talk to me. I remember driving up and you and your friends would see if I had bubble gum with me.

What happened? You grew up. You grew up, and then you acted like you had never seen me before. I would speak, and you pretended I wasnít there. The first time you got in trouble I asked you why? You said it was all about respect. Respect? You and your friends seem to mistake respect for fear. You donít want someone to respect you. You want them to fear you. You carry your gun with you. You said it was part of being a man. I told you. I told you that a child can use a gun, a man doesnít need one. You wouldnít listen. Why wouldnít you listen?

So, this is how it is? Can you even hear me? Iím not sure you can. If you can, hear this, Iím sorry. Iím sorry I canít save you. I think the bullet hit your heart. Every compression just makes more blood come out. Iím sorry; I didnít want to be dispatched to this call. I told you this would happen. You wouldnít listen. If you had only listened.

The one thing you forgot? Respect for yourself. Go peacefully young man.

B. Hopewell

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