[ WP ] Write the letter that you always wanted to , but never did .

Dear One-of-Three, 
 
 There were days back in grade school where I came prepared to kill you. My dad ’ s gun weighing down my backpack more than I could admit. Sitting there with awful intentions. I was n't scared of it. I knew how to shoot it and how to handle it. My dad knew I knew of it so he taught me about it in order to get rid of the curiosity that could lead to horrible accidents. He couldn ’ t picture me using it on purpose. 
 
 Almost every day through two school years you and the others taunted me. I became sport for you and your friends. A relentless barrage of creative insults were flung at me before I even sat down on the bus in the morning until the bus pulled far away enough that I could no longer hear you in the afternoon. 
 You took me to a dark place. A place where no 11 year old should be able to imagine. I could picture you dying in lots of ways. The most satisfying where in a school yard fight. Ones where I would actually fight back and end it with a large enough rock to the face; repeatedly. Those were the day-dreams that actually made my adrenaline pump while just sitting there. 
 
 I don ’ t know what saved you. It wasn ’ t lack of opportunity. You sat one seat ahead of me on the bus. You liked to be close, me within reach with the back of your head a pretty target. I could picture painting the seat in front of you red with your blood. It wasn ’ t lack of motivation. Only the universe knows how much I wanted to do it. Day dreams of you dying were my favorite. Maybe I just missed that one push with that one perfect opportunity. I carried the gun in my coat pocket during recess. Nothing since then has ever felt as foreign or cold in my hands. I ’ ve worked with guns plenty since then but nothing ever felt more dangerous to me. To think of the nerve I must have had. To get into my dads safe in the morning and take it out. Even tucked away in my bag I felt like I had a big flashing sign above me. And it wasn ’ t just once. Three times in one week I brought it. An 11 year old never had more frayed nerves. 
 
 There is nothing to gain from this letter for me or for you directly. But in the end I didn ’ t do it. I ’ m happy I didn ’ t, obviously. I don ’ t feel the same anymore. I ’ m a different person now as I ’ m sure you are as well. I just hope you ’ re aware of how you were and if you have kids, to teach them to be different. If they are even close to a shadow of your younger self, then fix it. Fix them before someone else does it for you permanently. 
 
 With Respect, 
 Your Would Have Been Killer 

