There’s nothing like watching a person die.

Not physically die, but truly die.

Their soul escaping from the space that was once filled by them,

the sound of a laugh fading to a memory of a giggle,

Oscar-winning short films becoming nothing but a static photo.

Three years ago, I couldn’t escape you.

Your laugh, your photo, your name–and now,

you only appear in my mind in the middle of the night.

When I’m thinking about how easily I could be you,

about how you once lived the same life I live right now,

you thought the same thoughts, had the same friends,

made the same memories, and yet,

you can’t make them anymore.

Less than 200 people know you now, and I’m not sure any of them ever did.

To be honest, I didn’t know you either, not in the ways I should have.

But I know myself, and well,

I think that means I know you, just a little.