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Heyo!

If you haven't noticed, or have been too busy to notice, I reopened a lot of my old posts. In all of those posts there are snarky/sarcastic/silly comments under the title "2015 EDIT" in the lower left of the entries.Those comments are mostly there for fun, they are sarcastic or they poke fun at my past self.
I can assure you that during the writing of most of those comments I had a large grin on my face and even made myself laugh a few times.
Some of the posts that are still private are poems or things that just didn't need to be uncovered. Of course posts that I made this year, were not graced with a 2015 Edit.

Another step in me growing up is realizing that while locking away bad memories and old parts of myself that need to be gotten rid of can help, going back and actually facing that part of me does much more.
Call it a form of therapy for me, I made fun of my old self, and in the process I was able to let go of a lot of things I still regretted from back then.

Now my other reasoning for doing this?

Tuesday: Tuesday evening of this week, a boy in my grade collapsed due to sudden cardiac arrest (heart attack). I had seen him that day, listened to him joke in class and laugh and be alive. After school, before a basketball game, I had seen him, only an hour or two before he collapsed. He was healthy. He was fine. He was smiling and laughing and breathing and teasing me and he was fine.

Wednesday: On Wednesday morning all first hour teachers told us students what had happened and that the he was in the hospital, in a medically induced coma. I had a class with the him (gym class, of all the irony), and I've known him since we were freshmen.We weren't very close, but he was always so nice to me, and we had our own jokes with each other to call out in the halls or during class. On Wednesday, at noon, he underwent surgery for internal bleeding. There was a laceration on his liver that was causing some trouble. The surgery was a success. They were able to stitch up his liver and they placed gauze in his stomach. He also had some circulation issues in his legs, but during surgery they were able to give him something that fixed that. All throughout the day, teachers who knew him had moments of silence before class started, and we all prayed.

Thursday: Thursday morning he received a brain scan. Little to no activity was shown as well as swelling in his brain. The clock was ticking. He was given 36 hours. Thursday evening a group of us went to a church to pray for him and his family. I never thought I'd set foot in a church again. Never thought something could bring me to my knees and bow my head, to clasp my hands together and just beg. There were so many tears that night. But there were so many jokes too.
"He'll get so mad when he sees what we've been doing, we'll have to take down everything, the Facebook page, the caring bridge badge, all the tweets will have to be deleted, all the posts on Instagram, delete all the Snapchats that were shared. He'll get so mad. We'll all hug him and he'll stand there yelling his lungs off at us for giving him so much attention." To be completely honest? I would give anything to hug him right now, to hear him yell at me and shout and scold me while I hug him. Just to feel him breathing in my arms, to hear his heartbeat and his voice. To see the blood rush to his face as he gets embarrassed and angry.

Friday: ... Friday after his brain scan, after the 36 hours had passed... he was pronounced brain dead, no activity had been shown during the scan they had done late that night (or early that morning, I'm not sure when it happened, because no one but his family and the doctors know for sure when that 36 hour timer started). No one heard anything about it until lunch time, and once it got out, it spread like a wildfire. People started to sob, some got up and left, their trays still at their tables, food untouched. I stopped eating. I ran to my friend and we held each other as we cried. We let ourselves cry until it was time to go back to class, but by then the guidance counselors had heard and everyone who knew him or was upset by the situation was directed to the auditorium. I have never felt so much sadness in one place before. The lights were dim, and people were in their seats, clinging to others or to themselves, just crying. There was no hope that we would ever see our friend again. I've never had so many people hug me or hold me and cry with me before. There was so much sadness, you could taste it in the air. The depression, the tears, the underlying anger. People were praying, they were begging for a miracle, or they were sobbing. We all suffered together.
After a while, students got up and left, two boys went up on stage and said a prayer for the boy we lost and his family. They cried while they spoke, and then they left. No one was holding fifth hour anymore.
A few teachers were trying to teach, but most just let the students sit in silence or they talked about the situation and how it affected them. A lot of seniors and juniors, who knew the boy we lost, left school early. No one stopped us. I got hugged by teachers and other students, and I hugged them in turn. I'd never seen our student body become so comforting to one another, kids who barely knew each other were sharing a box of tissues, holding each other, praying with each other, pleading and begging together.
I held my friends as they cried into my shoulder and I into theirs.

We lost someone who was practically the embodiment of sunlight.
He had blond hair, bright blue eyes, and a smile that never faded. Even when he wasn't visibly smiling, the crinkle under his eyes was still there.
He lived and breathed and laughed love. He was nice to everyone, and in the class I shared with him, he always had something to say. We did Yoga on Fridays and I kept thinking of all the comments he would make before we started, he loved to complain about Yoga, and honestly who wants to be in a gym class their senior year anyways? Sometimes he would have random facts to tell us before class, or he would have a joke. Sometimes he made himself laugh before the punchline. Sometimes he talked nonsense, or he told us all a funny story that had happened to him that day or any day prior.
He breathed life into so many things, into so many people.
And he's gone.