On My Deathbed
A short story for your enjoyment
It would have been good if I could have had somebody to lean on when I wasn’t strong, which was often. Like the song said, “We all need somebody to lean on.”
But for me, there never was. At least that’s how it felt. I had a little, or no, a lot of resentment towards those people who got to have their happy-ever-after. If we all deserve it, why couldn’t I ever have mine?
Now laying here on my deathbed, I recognized my mistakes.
In high school, there was a girl I thought was hot, and I wanted to ask her out, I should have, but didn’t. I thought she would have laughed if I did. Why? In junior high, at dances, I would ask a girl to dance to a slow song, and she’d say no, but not just saying no. She looked like she was laughing. Was she really? Maybe, maybe not. But just because something is done to you, doesn’t mean it’s about you. A lesson learned too late.
I think about her now and wonder, what if I had made the move, would I have gotten my happy-ever-after?
I wanted so much to be a musician and a writer — whoever put a guitar around their neck or picked up a drumstick didn’t have the dream of being a star of whatever genre they loved? And what writer didn’t have dreams of being the next Stephen King, Tom Clancy, Clive Cussler, or insert…
