I'm so sorry I couldn't get your name, hell. I didn't even talk to you for that long. In that case, hi, I'm Tim. And I'm dying. Now, you saw me do what I did, and I'm glad that I did.
The bar, The creepy man, how he looked at you, and how he followed you, then grabbed you. The screams that you gave, it saddened me.
After you left, I had to subdue him, make sure he didn't go after you, I knocked him out, but he won overall, he he pulled a pistol and shot right before I knocked it from his hand,
but the damage was done, I was shot in the chest, I am now bleeding profusely, watching to make sure he doesn't get up. I saw you run, hopefully to get the police.
I hope they get here, not to save me, I'm far from that, but to take the man away, so I'm not dead when he wakes up, kind of a final wish, eh? I'm just a 22 year old grocery store clerk, or was.
I'm not anyone special, I am unnoticed among people, but that never bothered me. I m not here to be popular, or special. I also have a dog, oh no.
Poor patches, will he go to the pound? No, imp want him to be with Mike, those two always shared a connection.
I named him patches because of his patchwork body, it was always so cute to me, he loved to lick people, it was his thing. I am also leaving behind a ton of fucking paperwork, thank god.
That is one good thing about dying, no more paperwork for my boss to tell me to do. I'm bleeding more, the wetness and warmth of my clothes is a new feeling, I'm also weaker, but my mind isn't.
I'm a daydreamer, you see, I always imagined myself as a hero, or a leader of an extraordinary team of badasses!
Aye, now I shall live in a dream forever, hopefully being able to be happy, with my grandpa. I wish I had have gotten the chance to know you, you are kind of cute, after all.
I guess I didn't do so good, eh? After all, you just began drinking again, kind of expected, but eh, I can take a loss sometimes. I guess I could have a chance if I live, I don't expect to at all.
Aye, now the blood covers my shirt, making me look like a red villain. Should I not joke about my death? Is that immoral? Aye, but it's my death.
My mom is gonna be horrified by this outcome, but I saved someone today, and a good death is an honourable one.
It's getting hard to write this, my hand feels like a fifty pound weight, and moving it is hard. I hear sirens, alas, you are coming, it's also getting fuzzy around here, I like it.
I'm fine with it. Stop it with the bleeding, I want to spend my last few seconds, not looking like I came from the apocalypse, horrible joke, I know, sue me.
Wait, you can't sue a dead person, ha! It's is hard as hell to write! Aye, the police car, I see it, I totally look like a vampire, don't I?
Don't lie, i see the police jumping hurdles to get to me, don't worry, I'll be fine.
Sorry for not getting your name, good saving you
Speaking from beyond,
P.S. Tell stitches to stop chewing on the damn furniture!