Phantom Ballistic

For the 43 years of my life I had felt like a lonely apparition. I could never sleep, I had an endless mission to try and figure out why people phased through me, I was a restless specter by definition. I hungered for love, affection, anyone's attention or even the slightest recognition. A hunger for even the smallest amount of love but instead I suffered an infinite emotional support malnutrition. The ones I thought were there for me were only showing face for their self worth and ignoring my affliction. Which was trying to figure out why I was a ghost to them, that endeavor became my own personal mental addiction. On wondering why I was alone, I would eternally overdose. To the 12 steps of recovery for that, I wasn't even coming close. Truly feeling defeated and weak I gave up hope. Like a tiny bug pushing a boulder up an endless slope. I was falling in an abyss without a lifeline, not a single soul to throw me a rope. At times I felt I was standing in the middle of a drought yet I was drowned by a deluge of my own tears, conjured by my fears, my life wasn't shifting, my cardiac muscle had broken gears. With no one ever coming in clutch, I had never experienced a caring embrace or even a loving touch. Unmendable was my heart since the reality of solitude had taken residence. I had to do something but failed many times, I knew what was eminent. I had never begged for death, nor I was ever an end life seeker. But when someone is so broken beyond repair, they might welcome the pendulum motion of the scythe belonging to the reaper. I tried and tried but nobody was there. No one anywhere to hear my prayer. There would be no aftermath since no one cared. So I pleaded to the grim one for a spectral projectile I justified was essential. His eerie voice whispered in my ear "I agree with you forgotten one, so don't squeeze the trigger so gentle". Then in my hands appeared a Phantom Ballistic I effortlessly introduced to my temple…