My name is Megan and I was killed in a car accident when I was sixteen years old. But that’s super morbid and not what this is about. This is about my life. My too-short, not-so-perfect, but-still-quite-perfect life. 

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My life began when my parents were living in England during my dad’s deployment there. They lived on base but my mom said that was her favorite place they’d ever lived because they would go outside the base and all of Europe was at their fingertips. My dad was deployed there for three years and they had me the second year. I was born on June 7th, 2002. I was 7 lbs. 9 oz. My mom likes to tell me that a lot for some reason I guess that’s a thing for moms. Anyway, we lived in London for another year before my dad was stationed back in the United States. I’ve grown up here ever since. 

Sometimes I wish we would have traveled more when I was younger but my dad says he’s more than happy to stay right where we are. I guess that’s because he’s had to travel his whole life and he’s happy being here. I get it. 

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I’m not an only child though, I have an older sister named Tess. She’s 4 years older than me. She thinks she’s cooler than me because she was actually born in Armenia, which is where my dad is from and where he was stationed before England. But regardless, she’s in college now she goes to school 5 hours away from home. It feels like it’s so much farther though because she’s never home. She likes math and science. She’s studying to be a nurse so she’ll have to go to medical school after undergrad. My parents are thrilled of course. She’s pretty much the perfect child. She gets good grades and everything, but she never played any sports because she was always too busy studying. 

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Me, on the other hand, I LOVE soccer. I love it more than anything in the world. I’ve been playing since I was 7 years old. My dad bought me a soccer ball and he likes to tell the story that as soon as he brought it home and inflated it, I was hooked. I never put it down. I would go outside and dribble, juggle, and shoot until my feet were bruised. He said I would only ever stop to come inside for dinner. My favorite part about soccer is getting to play with my friends. We’ve been playing together ever since I can remember. 

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I’m not that great in school because I have a hard time paying attention, or at least that’s what my mom says. The truth is I don’t care that much about school because I want to be a professional soccer player. My dad says it’s difficult for women to become professional soccer players but I don’t care. I definitely want to play in college and get a scholarship but I’m not sure what I would study if I went. I sort of like History but my teachers say it’s good to have back up plans just in case the soccer thing falls through and there’s not much you can do with a History degree. Oh well. 

I generally get along well in high school. I go to St. Albert. A private school. I have to wear a uniform, which yes, is in fact, a plaid skirt. It’s an all-girls school, which I don’t really mind, but Alex HATES. Alex is my best friend, she plays soccer with me and is in my grade at school. She likes to brag about being 4 months older than me but that doesn’t make her cooler. She has this boyfriend, Dan, who’s in college. He’s okay. I just always have to hear about how little she gets to see him since we have to play soccer on the weekends. But he’s nice to me. Alex is definitely more “out-there” than me so I like to joke around and have fun with her. My parents say she’s been a bad influence on me because ever since we became friends, I’ve been out a lot more… you know… having a life? Alex and I just laugh a lot, we like to have fun, I don’t see anything wrong with that. 

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My favorite thing to do (other than soccer) is listen to music. I love classic rock, 80’s pop and rock, as well as more contemporary stuff like indie rock and EDM. Music makes me feel calm when I need to but it also gives me so much energy. I don’t know what people did in the world without music it honestly makes my life so much better. Every time I feel down? Music. Need to be pumped up? Music. Happy and giddy? Music! It might be because my dad used to play the electric violin when I was a kid and that always made me feel safe and happy. I think I associate music with that feeling. Sometimes I get carried away with music though. Like last year I tore my ACL because I was practicing for a big game and I tried to pump myself up. I got a little carried away. Sometimes that happens to me… I get angry or excited or nervous and I get carried away

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Alex knows that more than anyone. She knows that because the week before I died we got into a huge fight that destroyed our friendship. It was a stupid fight. Over nothing. Completely ridiculous. But that was the last conversation we ever had. My best friend. The week before I died I didn’t laugh, I didn’t get to listen to her make fun of everything, I didn’t touch a soccer ball, and I didn’t get to tell her I was sorry. I didn’t get to tell her: I’m sorry I called you a liar and a cunt. I’m sorry I blamed everything on you.

 

I’m sorry I died.