When Did I Deserve to Die?

At what moment was my last straw?

When did the insanity in the world begin to make a little too much sense?

Living life one day at a time, one slow, chilling breath after another.

Having no idea, it ends for me when a stranger takes my life and death into their own hands.

For my last moments to end in fear, to lay helplessly on the shivering cement fold. Creating a mental list of all the things I had yet done or the people I didn't love hard enough.

Who are you to put your tragedy above mine?

To even use an excuse for murder, especially one that involves you refusing to understand your pain.

You let your broken heart be welled back together with rage, yet I am the one lying on this floor, slowly losing my left because of a bullet you prejudicially made me the target for.

I am losing a life I was working so hard towards appreciating; I was trying every day to be a better version of myself than yesterday.

Who are you to decide when anyone can no longer live? You're trapped in your selfish mindset when you aren't genuinely living. You've created a barricade that will break; there's no invincible forcefield in life, so when you're done choosing reckless impulses as your destination, you will see no healing for your pain.

Every day, you breathe in your negative horse shit and view your actions as justifiable?

Do you believe you are someone who can play God?

You've murdered God with all your hatred. Because of your God cannot exist.

Why has this turned into my suffering?