This morning someone I knew killed himself
I didn't hear about his death until Monday when everything April foolish was over and done. It was perhaps better that way to hear it from a friend rather than to listen to the voicemail I received. I though that he was like most others who commit suicide: Lively and energetic and almost without a hint of the oncoming abrupt end. I've known him for almost two years and I can't recall his last name.
He sent out a bulk email that amounts to about three printed pages where he gives away all of his possessions and wrote personal notes to his closer friends. I was lucky in that aspect to not receive an email. I spoke to one of his closer friends on campus, an aborted romantic interest yesterday. She'll need to speak to her Professors and Class Deans, things are still out of hand with her.
Now that he's gone, he'll be perpetually young in my memory. He won't have the opportunity to age at all, or for me to imagine a future for. That's the problem with dying young.