Man, it started out a hot day.
Whew.
Still blazing around 4:30 in the evening—
Right in the middle of an August heatwave.
I wasn’t doing anything special.
Just stepped out the shower,
Got dressed,
Headed to the store.
Right before I left,
I remembered—I left my phone on the charger.
So I ran back inside to grab it.
When I came back out to my Trailblazer—
A car I had just bought a few days ago—
There was something on the windshield.
A note.
Not just any note.
It had a scent…
That sweet perfume Angel wears.
I smiled.
I knew it was from her.
Angel.
What a perfect name for the love of my life.
We’d been together since high school.
She was eight months pregnant.
Our baby girl was almost here.
I slid into the seat and started reading.
Angel was pouring her heart out—
Telling me how proud she was,
How much she loved me,
How excited she was for our family.
I felt good.
Real good.
Until—
BANG!
BANG! BANG!
Gunshots.
Close.
Too close.
It happened so fast,
I couldn’t even duck.
I looked up—
Saw a group of young boys
Speeding off in a ’64 Impala.
Who were they beefing with?
What just happened?
Then I heard screaming—
My mama.
She was losing it.
People gathering.
Someone was shot.
I ran over, yelling,
“Help him! Somebody help him!”
But no one moved.
No one did anything.
So I tried.
I got closer.
And closer.
And then—
I saw me.
What? Me?
Lying there.
Bleeding out.
Gone.
I froze.
I panicked.
This couldn’t be real.
“Mac!” I shouted.
Here came my cousin.
He’d help me… or so I thought.
He was going berserk—
But he couldn’t hear me.
Couldn’t see me.
The paramedics finally arrived.
God knows what took them so long.
I tried to speak—
But they walked right past me.
Then—
Like a heavy wind smashing a brick wall,
A strange tingling behind my eyes…
And suddenly—
I was in a church.
In a casket.
Packed.
People I knew.
People I didn’t mess with.
All gathered.
A public showing.
Family.
Friends.
Well-wishers.
Crying as they passed my body.
And it hit me—
Hard.
This was real.
I was gone.
I wasn’t coming back.
“Angel…” I whispered.
“Can you see me?”
She didn’t answer.
She had the baby—
Our beautiful baby girl.
But my cousin took her from Angel’s arms.
She couldn’t hold on.
Neither could my mama.
They had to be carried away from the coffin.
They couldn’t be comforted.
Their screams came from their souls.
And me…
I walked the long road of reality.
I’d never become who I dreamed to be.
Not the doctor.
Not the lawyer.
Not the nurse who could save a life.
Because I. Don’t. Exist.
But maybe—
Just maybe—
My death can still mean something.
Maybe this is the message:
To the young people—
Put the guns down.
Stop the violence.
If I could reach the youth,
I would teach youth.
I’d warn the youth.
I’d plead with youth.
But if no one’s talking…
If no one’s telling the truth…
Then darker days are coming.
Young people need to hear my story.
Young people need to live my story.
Because while the youth still breathe—
I’m dead.