feeling nostalgic, i decided to check up on my hometown news. what i came across was an obituary, one of my mom's friends' son, brian, who "died peacefully at home after a courageous battle with cancer." he was 20. went to brother rice, but i didn't even know him. my mom kept me up to date on him every once in a while, but i didn't think he'd die. i guess, you never think they'll die.
i generally don't cry at the drop of a hat, but the tears just came. not because i felt the loss, because that would be untrue. i don't feel the loss of him, because i didn't know him. but i guess because i feel guilty, that i'm alive and not living like i should. i carry too much negativity, and it's like i can hear him saying to his friends, "man, just live. don't carry around all that hate, it's just not worth it. what i would give to have another day..."
but he did not say that... or if he did, i do not know for sure. i never met him, i don't even know what he looks like. but i know how it made me feel when i read his obituary, sitting in my dark room, alone. i did not like it.