</3 Gregory, You Will Be Missed </3

One point eight people die each second. That means there's a hundred and eight deaths in a minute, six thousand four hundred and eight in an hour and one hundred fifty-five thousand, five hundred and twenty deaths in a day.

There's death on the news every day. I, for one, never truly think about it, other than 'Oh, that's horrible' and 'why are humans so cruel?' Well, a few days ago, a boy I know got hit by two cars. He's only eight. According to the drivers, it was like he wanted to see if he could make it across.

His parents had no clue as to where he was. He had told them that he was going to his grandma's house, who only lived right up the hill from him. He wouldn't even have to step foot in the road. But he lied to them, and crossed the high way on his bike to visit a friend.

He made it across the first time, and - according to a few stories - crossed back over, and attempted to cross back to his friend. He was hit by one car, which slung him into another car. He was air lifted to the hospital.

He had bleeding on the brain, but, other than that, he was okay.

He went brain dead today.

They will not resuscitate him.

Now, they're just waiting for his heart to stop beating.

I've never been crazy about this boy, often thinking that he was quite annoying. But I'll say it now: Gregory, you will be missed. You will always be loved. I'm sorry for getting mad at you, and anything I may have said. Gregory, I hope you made it to Heaven...

Gregory... Why did you have to be a dare devil?
Why did you have to leave the yard?
That's not who you are... Gregory... Why?