It's 4 am and I'm awake and not because I'm over caffinated or overly stoned. I'm scared to sleep. It was a 3 years ago that my friend died on this day at 4 am. I was awake that night too. Scared too. A dream shocked me awake. I sat up gasping for breath and tears falling down my face. I don't remember to this day what the dream was. I don't know why I was crying. I never cry. I looked at the clock and saw it was 4. I had time to work back to sleep and still get up at a somewhat civilized time. That was the last time I was innocent

Murder was always just a word in my family. We were desensitized by the media like the rest of the world. "Oh the neighbor hacked his wife to death in the closest.... well he was always kinda nutty I guess." Death was just a thing that happened to bad people.

It's 6pm now. 3 years ago mom and dad came home from their friends house. They were cheery, laughing. "Did you see the news?"

"No. I was working the puzzle."

"Oh... remember the kid you new all your life. Well he was stabbed."

That was the end of the discussion. He was stabbed. Story over, what's for dinner. I must have watched 68 news programs that night trying to get the whole story. I read all the articles. I turned the thought over in my head. He was dead. The boy who aspired to be a priest was murdered in his own house by a boy he was trying to help and his brother saw it happen. That's fucked up. The cops could have stopped the events from occuring months before but it's small town incompetense.

I was supposed to be the wild one. Dieing first. Pushing the limits. But he beat me there. Reality check. Who am I? Why am I here? Why did he die? I can't save the earth. He could have. I'm pissed off.

The kid who did this will be out of jail when he is 35 years old. He never denied killing my friend. He never said, "No it wasn't me." So why 35? Well parole is a funny thing and the true meaning of a trial is warped beyond belief in this country. Poachers are put in jail longer than a murderer. What did he learn? That you can kill someone but since you had a tough life it was ok. Fuck him.

So my friend is dead. It's tough to say now a days. I don't really talk about it. I'll warn some people just because I get hard core flash backs of the viewing. It's tough to see your friends body in a coffing looking all painted up. That all leads to some serious mood swings already bad from manic depression. So it's only fair I warn them.

He's dead, but in a ways he's still there being that brother I always was missing. Keeping an eye out on me, knowing that I know that I was supposed to be the first to die. He doesn't want to see me too soon.

He's dead. I'll never see him again. I'll never talk to him again. I'll never get to say sorry. Or I fucked up. Or how cool he was. Or remember when. I won't get to ask if life is all good. I won't get to just chill. No one will. He's dead.