Dissapointment

My name is Killian Wolfhard and my whole life was a dissapointment.

Since my childhood everyone thought of me as a physical prodigy. My grandfather was an NBA player,did not have a memorable career at all, but the fact still stands. My father was a former D1 athlete standing proud at the height of 6'10 and having strong passion for the game of basketball.

I was gifted,to say the least. I was ahead of my peers in academics and had a body that screamed of my future as a basketball player.

Turning 10, I was 5'5 - 5'6 and was already training for going pro for 4 years.

But...something horrible happened. Since the age of 10 I was constantly lacking energy,I was always sleepy and tired, but despite that, I was still training. At times, I felt numbness on my hands and feet, but wrote it off as just consequences of constant exercise.

I was, of course, wrong.

At the age of 12, headaches and the lack of sleep was too much for me to handle and my parents took me to hospital.

Turns out, I had a very rare disease for someone as young as I was,called Acromegaly(or Gigantism).

This condition put a very mean and hurtful period to my dreams as a pro Basketball player. I was hurt by these news, locking myself from entire world and not even cosidering having friends or even relationships to ease pain that I felt for something that I couldn't even avoid or help.

I gave up on everything, except for school, because I didn't want my family to think of me as a burden or liability and in the end leaving me. At the age of 18, I lost my mother to car accident, which left my father in deep depression, which led to alcoholism and distance between us.

Despite everything I was able to get a degree in philosophy and become journalist covering various news.

Of course my love for Basketball never left me, I watched practically every game that was airing and dedicated my every free hour to this magical sport. As a philosopher, I loved the tactical and psychological aspects of the game.

This made me the biggest fan of coaches like Phil Jackson and Gregg Popovič.

It's the year 2066, I'm working at the national telivision as a professional journalist. Today is 22nd April, my 34th birthday. Of course nobody congratulated me at work, since nobody knew, because nobody talked to me. I was known as "Big Kill" for my monstrous height or "Hermit Kill" for my lonely personality, but I couldn't care less. As long as work was done, I don't find interacting with these people necessary.

I was returning from work, as always earlier than everyone else, because I always tend to complete my duties without breaks and as soon as possible. I was at the risk of missing Suns v Bulls game,that's why I started to speed up.  Suddenly,while traveling at the high speed, I noticed child standing in the middle of the road, I panicked and tried to turn car away, hoping that the crash with trees won't be severe.

Oh boy, was I wrong. Waking up, I hear a woman crying

'Probably mother of child. Well,at least I was able to avoid the kid.'

I wasn't able to feel my body and deduced that I was already a dead man.

'Heh, irony is a harsh thing. Well, dying at the day I was born is kinda romantic, not gonna lie'

After some time I recalled everything that happened in these lonely and brief 34 years.

'Dad, I'm sorry for being such a dissapointment of a son. I wasn't able to helpafter mom passed away. I'm sorry for being so self-centered, that I didn't even notice your grief while I was drowning in mine. I'm... very sorry.'

And my mind faded into darkness