So…getting shot in real life isn’t as glamourous as it is in movies. For one, there’s no scantily clad woman falling on her knees beside your prone body begging you ‘not to leave her’ while giving you a spectacular view up her shirt. No. Its just you lying on the hot ashpalt with dirt under your finger nails as your heartbeat slowly fades. Oh, lets not forget the nasty gunshot wound that throbs like a motherfucker. Okay it hurts like hell but throbbing sounds more macho; like I’m bearing the pain majestically while in reality, I’m sweating buckets and wheezing like an asthmatic person exposed to a pollen storm.
Yeah…also there’s that annoying bitch called hindsight mocking you concerning the current situation you are in. There is a reason why people don’t like being told “I told you so” because your inner voice does that job. Too well.
And the volume of the gunshot? If you do not die from the wound then you will definitely go deaf from the loudness of the gun going off. So here I am, partially deaf, bleeding out from my gut. It kinda feels like a bad case of dysentry raging through your intenstines.
Yet, despite all of this, my brain still has the energy to drift to its favouite obsession, her. I sadly do not have one of those ‘your life flashes before your eyes’ moments. No siree, instead I think of her, from the first kiss to the first fuck to the first fight and the first anniversary and finally how I was currently staring at her after she just shot me.