Life should come with a sign that says "DON'T MAKE PLANS BECAUSE I'LL FUCK YOU” or at least that's what I thought right now.I planned my life three months ago.I’d finish high school, I’d move to Chicago to study law, I’d live with Olivia, we would get jobs to become independent, in the third year of our career I’d ask her to marry me, we would get married surrounded by our families and close friends, we would have at least four children, we would see them grow up and give us grandchildren, I’d grow old next to the woman of my life. The woman I loved, the one who complemented me, my everything.Apparently, I was very wrong with my plans, because despite knowing her since I was thirteen, that she became my best friend and later my girlfriend, it didn’t make me really know her and, having had a magic crystal ball that warned me that my day would end the way it did, I definitely wouldn't have gotten out of bed that morning