You either die the hero or live long enough to be the villain.

My great Grandfather was an excellent man when he was young, being a detective and all. There was once when he brought a drug smuggling business to justice. He had gotten great praise, and even a medal when he was able to do what so many others had failed to do.

But he was still alive.

My Grandmother was a beautiful woman. She had been walking to the market one day when she witnessed a bank robbery. She had followed the criminals as they escaped, all the way to their hideout under the streets. Before they could realize what was happening, they were arrested for their crimes. Grandmother had been graciously thanked by the police and by the bank owner.

But she was still alive.

My uncle was a firefighter that had helped in 9/11, dragging out the survivors and putting out countless fires. He was a good man.

But he is still alive.

My brother always said that he loved me. He helped me with my homework, my chores, and my general life. One day, I came clean that I was being bullied by a kid in school, and he flipped. As soon as possible, he made the bully learn a lesson. I was so grateful, because I've never been bullied since then.

But my brother is still alive.

Great Grandfather died a drug addict.
Grandmother died in jail from stealing $10,000 from her ex-husband.
Uncle has gone missing.
Brother still loves me.

Yes, my brother seems okay. So that means I will be okay too...right?

I hope so, because I just rescued a puppy. His name is Hero.