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Diary of a Twenty-Something: 05.09.18.

May 10, 2018



I don't like May 9th.


Today marks 6 years since you decided to "experience" death. I still remember the day so clearly. I still get angry that all the websites got your death date wrong in the obituary. 


I've always hoped, for your sake, that there's something after death. Deep down, I don't believe in a life after death, but I still hope that I'm wrong, so that you got to experience death, and your goodbye didn't go to waste. 


If you were alive today, you would be 22. You're frozen in my mind as a 15 year old boy, and I sometimes wonder what sort of person you would be, if you were alive. 


May 9th is such an odd day for me. I don't feel "sad" per say, anymore. I've had a long time to process your death, and I'm old enough to no longer blame myself for not "saying the right things". But the day still leaves me feeling weird- I don't feel like myself today. 


I hope you're well. 

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