I’m thinking this is it, after fifteen years

Back against the back, of a slightly rusted bakery

Three years closed, or maybe thirty

Rust, the color of dried blood

Who knows, maybe it’s my blood

But alas, that wound is still wet

My fingers graze my chest

Only slightly touching, but pull away red

Perhaps dirtier clothes would be expected, but I’ve learned

Half a life on the run, in a dystopia

One that I had only imagined, or read about

The books I used to read

A sixth-grader, eighteen years ago

And now it’s the end of my story

Here, at the end of this road

This long-forgotten road, a fate I assume I will share

After the virus, the world cracked apart

The greatest cities falling first, leaving destruction in its wake

Fifteen, and school canceled before freshman year could end

I had weeks at home

We thought it was going to be fine

Then I lost my family

All of my family, even the ones I didn’t live with

And immediately after, the state was a warzone

It was the apocalypse, and I had been training for strength & conditioning

A high school P.E class, not this

Anarchy was quick

And I couldn’t stay, because I guess it wasn’t all of my family

Two young cousins left, not really my cousins, even

My father’s friend’s daughter’s children, though my father practically raised her

I packed a bag and ran to their home, where they were left alone

Their parents gone, like mine

We stayed as long as we could, but eventually, we had to go

Too much destruction rang, so we could never stay for long

I carried the boy who couldn't walk yet

Holding hands with the young girl who could

And years passed, so many years

I left everyone behind, all of my friends

My entire life

Or this was my entire life

On the streets, running away

Raising two children at fifteen, then dying at thirty

Maybe this was how my life should have been

Because we knew this moment was coming

I loved science when I was young, but never a biologist

The hemoptysis, the bruising

The inability to breathe when it was needed

It didn't take a doctor to know that something was wrong with me

And I knew that I was going to die

Knew it for months, really

The kids, teenagers now, really, knew for weeks

I wrote letters for the two of them last week, and

Even though it was the end

I thought I was going to die from disease

Not a stab wound

"You have to go, they'll be after you now"

They're here, and alive, but

"I just want you to know how proud of you two I am

And I am so proud"

The kids have to keep moving

I cough, and they are blurry, but I can see them

I can't lift my hand to touch their faces

They have their letters

And I can hear the I love you's and hold on's

"I love you too."

My head slumps against the wall

I'm a little surprised that it doesn't hurt at all

Or maybe it's not surprising, given this is the end

And I've just lost the feeling

I can feel the light though

I have always wanted to leave this life

Even before the virus, before the loss

Life has always been something to lose for me

And living on the street has only made it something more

But I have never wanted to leave my found family behind

I suppose this is the way it is now

I am going to die

I am dying

Right now

This is how it ends

The end of my story is now

Here, at the end of this now nameless road

And I am at the end of mine.

We're here, across from each other

I kind of regret bringing you your favorite

Double shot espresso, half and half with vanilla

And cinnamon

It smells nice

You smell nice

You're not drinking it, though

And I'm awkwardly sipping at mine

Unsure of what to say

And before I know it, my drink is gone

And I don't have anything to do

Other than uncomfortably rearranging

How to put my hands on the cold table

"I'm sorry"

And you nod, offering a weak smile

"It's okay"

So when you leave a few minutes later

There's two cups of coffee left on the table

One's mine, empty

And yours is getting cold

You know, sometimes you help

Like when I need to finish a project

Or I’m hyped up for the next band concert

My health teacher said that’s eustress

And I’m okay with that

Eustress, I don’t mind you

But sometimes I have the stress

And I’m a mess

And I’m worried about too many small things

Like the length of my dress

Or whether or not they’re impressed

And the feeling in my chest

Is...wrong

And I can’t calm down

And it only gets worst

And I’m thinking

And thinking

And I can’t say the right words

And I can’t start sentences correctly

And I’m so

so

so

Stressed

I’d be willing to make a deal if it were

Bargain

Trade that distress for eustress

Never have to feel like my head

Is a combination of the head-explosion emoji

And the sad face one

With swooping features

So there you go, stress

How about a trade?

How’d you like to trade

How’d you like to

Never ruin my writing and words again

What do you want

I’ll try to make it happen if you will

Will you?