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User avatar #188 - thelastamerican (09/10/2013) [-]
One of my friends jumped off the third floor of the fine arts building at Murry state. His funeral was two years ago, and I haven't cried about it until now. His brother read a eulogy, his mom cried and I sat there the entire time completely dry. He was a nerd, his girlfriend, his first girlfriend just broke up with him. He wasn't doing well in one of his classes. I dropped a half ounce silver bar in his grave before we covered him up. It's a family tradition to drop something important to us into the grave. I thought to myself just now how long it's been since I talked to him, and I realized the last time I talked to him was just before he went to school. Now I'm about to finish school and he never will. I could have talked to him, could have called him, but instead I went about my daily life and acted surprised like everyone else when I heard the news. I shouldn't have been surprised at all. I should have called him or visited him sometime in the last year of his life, but instead I was too busy doing my own thing. The really sad thing is that I could have changed his life, but I didn't and neither did any of his other friends. We all left him alone when he left. Was it our fault? We all tell ourselves, and each other, probably not. But in the back of our heads our collective conscience is whispering, "You could have stopped done SOMETHING."
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