(no subject)
Good grief. The AP English Language exam was today, which I think went rather brilliantly, but casting somewhat of a shadow on that is the death of two students who went to our school. I suppose it can be somewhat strange, because you usually don't know the people who die. So its hard to feel that connection with them, some sickening desensitivity. We're human beings though. So, I knew Allyson Jones. I can't say I knew her as well as the other kids at that prayer vigil in the morning, or her teachers or classmates, but I knew her. She was, for some time, my co-editor for Elysium, yet more striking to me is that I saw her maybe a week before she passed away. I remember seeing her in the hallway, with those curled sorts of ribbons all in her hair, and I smiled at her and lifted my hand in a wave in passing. I don't suppose I'd know what I'd do even if I knew she was going to die, but it was strange. This already fleeting memory is the closest tie I hold to her, and it seems horribly incomplete. The school has been putting up lavander papers with words of advice I'm assuming she wrote into a book, and I've taken extra care to read them; I can't help it. It feels like that two seconds of a goodbye aren't sufficient, and I'm somehow hoping that by reading her words, I might bring her back. I can't imagine the grief those closer to her might be going through, too. It isn't much (my connection to her), I suppose. We never really spoke outside of the magazine, and she wasn't even a coeditor for most of the year, but there is something very painful about knowing that I wont see her again. I wont be able to run into her in hallways anymore. I think of her, what she might look like in her casket, what her family may look like standing over her, and hope to reanimate her. I resent everything, why I couldn't say anything more to her, I regret only remembering the most minute details of our encounters, a quilt she had been making once. She was a month off from graduating, and she died. Something about that seems horribly cruel, and I prayed today, during a moment of silence held for her, and it felt like all I could do was shake my fist at something, tell them how unfair it was to take that kind of person, any person so young. So much hope. It makes me wonder, if sometimes God swallows beautiful souls to keep the stars shining, or how else it could be justified.
I don't mean to sound pretentious, or melodramatic. I hardly knew her at all, I'll admit I know that much, but to say she hasn't been on my mind would be a gross lie. Some strange part of me is going to miss her dearly, and I wish only the best for her family and loved ones, and that of Juan Molina, who I don't mean to only add as a footnote. I'll share it though: my one experience was hearing him make a comment about a painting in art once, about how it was flat. Then that was it. I remembered being extremely upset by the comment, enough so that I remember it, I suppose. Thats it. I don't know how much else I can share, except to let those who I am close to know that I really do care for them and love them.
I don't mean to sound pretentious, or melodramatic. I hardly knew her at all, I'll admit I know that much, but to say she hasn't been on my mind would be a gross lie. Some strange part of me is going to miss her dearly, and I wish only the best for her family and loved ones, and that of Juan Molina, who I don't mean to only add as a footnote. I'll share it though: my one experience was hearing him make a comment about a painting in art once, about how it was flat. Then that was it. I remembered being extremely upset by the comment, enough so that I remember it, I suppose. Thats it. I don't know how much else I can share, except to let those who I am close to know that I really do care for them and love them.