dear kristy,

it's odd, you not being here anymore.

i long to hear your laugh one more time, to see you glide past everyone at school as if you walked on the clouds. to watch as you argue with matheson in english class about literary devices and their correct usage. i wish to read those poems you threw away at the end of study hall that day.

i never thought i would rue the day you left this earth. but here i sit, alone in the darkness of the night, wishing that you still breathed.

it's odd, being alive on this earth while you no longer live.

maybe it wasn't your time.

maybe not right then.

maybe it was a mistake.

wasn't this how it was supposed to end?

joseph.