If you had asked me a year ago what I saw in my future, I might have told you something vague—survive another night shift, maybe make rent on time, hope the ceiling didn't leak again. But the truth? I didn't see a future. I was just floating.
No tragic backstory. No grand trauma. I was just... a guy who lost momentum. Mediocre in every direction—grades, ambition, personality. The kind of person people forget once the room empties. I used to scroll through feeds watching kids five years younger than me "make it," while I sat in a dim apartment at 2 a.m. with cold pizza and a bank account that mocked me.
I didn't hate my life. I hated what I'd let it become.
And then I died.
No warning. No slow fade. Just a car, a flash of rain-soaked glass, and silence so sharp it felt like the world hit pause.
That's how it ended.
---
But here's how it began again.
I woke up not in a hospital. Not in heaven or hell or whatever you believe waits for you.
I woke up in my old room.
The one with posters of rappers I haven't listened to in a decade, sneakers still stacked under the desk, and that half-broken ceiling fan spinning the same lazy circles. It smelled like old textbooks and yesterday's sweat. I reached for my phone on instinct. A **flip phone.** The screen lit up:
**"Hey bro, first day back! Ready for junior year?"**
I sat up, heart pounding like a war drum. This wasn't a dream. This was memory turned real.
I wasn't 28 anymore. I was 16.
Back in high school.
Back before it all slipped away.
---
I stared at the ceiling for a long time, the weight of two timelines pressing on my chest. I remembered everything. The late bills. The arguments. The chances I let die quietly. I remembered how I used to be so damn sure I had time. And then suddenly, I didn't.
Now I had it again.
A second chance.
It wasn't wrapped in fireworks or explained by a godlike voice. It just... was. A reset button I never asked for but needed more than I'd admit.
This time, I won't chase success like it's some distant finish line. I'll build it, step by step. I won't beg the world to notice me—I'll become someone impossible to ignore.
No more blaming the world. No more hiding in the shadows of my own potential.
This time, I'm going to change.
Not for revenge. Not for applause. But because the thought of wasting this gift a second time terrifies me more than death ever did.
So here I am. Ethan Walker.
Sixteen.
Alive again.
And ready to become the person I was always supposed to be.
---
**\[To Be Continued...]**
→ *Next Chapter: "First Bell, Fresh Start"*