I just found out, a friend of a friend passed away. There was word on the street about how he’d disappeared, and today, I receive news of his fatal accident. Apparently, I met him, once, but I don’t remember it.
Death holds such mysticism and fascination, the allure of the unknown, I suppose. But when you’re met with it in the loss of a life, the sorrows it implies can only be understood by someone who’s been there before.
Sitting here, I remember – life is a fickle bitch. I don’t have grandiose words of wisdom, I don’t have phrases of condolence, I just have this shiver in my heart because I’ve been there.
It’s odd feeling sorrow over someone I never knew, but I guess it’s not the person that pulls me into someone else’s pain, it’s the shared experience.
Either ways, how terribly unfortunate to lose a life so young.