Instead, I’ll use this as a bit of a declaration, if you will. I’m going to sleep soon, and hopefully I won’t wake up. Hopefully the last thing I’ll see is my ceiling fan, the last thing I’ll feel is a blanket, the last thing I’ll taste is water, the last thing I’ll smell is brownies, and the last thing I’ll hear is Billie Joe. Hopefully my last words will be “Goodbye.” yes, I said goodbye instead of goodnight. They didn’t notice it. Maybe they’ll remember when I’m gone. But as much as I want to die, I know I’ll wake up tomorrow morning. I’ll wake up, eat, do biology homework, read the stupid book Watership Down, talk to the same people about the same stuff, go to church and praise a God that hasn’t helped me much. I’ll shake hands, say hi to, and wave to people I’ve known way too long and don’t like. I’ll pretend I’m like everyone else, when, in reality, I’m not like anyone you’ll ever meet. I get it now. When you’re a kid your parents always tell you not to be friends with the “wrong” people. It’s taken me a while, but I know now. I’m the wrong kind of people. I represent and embody everything bad in a person disguised as something good. I’m your worst nightmare dressed as a fluffy bunny. I’m the poison in your tea, the marijuana in your brownie, the crystal meth that looks like poprocks. I’m everything parents don’t want their daughter to be, everything they don’t want their son to date. I know that, and I’m okay with it. But other than my longing to tell everyone I’m done, I haven’t changed much. I’ll still love everyone tomorrow that I love today. I’ll still sing everything tomorrow that I’ve sung today. I’ll hate everything tomorrow that I’ve hated today. Sure, my bucket list has only a few things scratched off it, but I’m okay. I’ve laughed and cried, loved and hated, gave up and pushed harder. I’ve failed and succeeded, fought and surrendered. I’ve come to terms with the fact I’ll never tell someone I’m sorry, I’ll never tell them how much I hate them, I’ll never see Green Day live, I’ll never learn to drive or fly in an airplane. I’ll never say “I do”, I’ll never have a child, I’ll never get drunk, I’ll never graduate high school, I’ll never leave this town. But at least I can say I’ve made a name for myself, kissed someone, been out of the country, had the best friends I could have, hugged a stranger, been to a concert, had over a 4.0 GPA, started in varsity softball. I’ve done a lot, but not enough. But at least I’ll know I’ve touched some people’s lives and all I have to say to them is thank you. Thank you and I love you all. But, “the choice was mine. I didn’t think enough.” goodbye.