This year was going alright. And all of a sudden it took one of the worst turns it could have possibly taken. This Saturday I'm turning eighteen and that's exciting, I guess. But then I find out yesterday that a friend of mine was killed on Saturday. I don't know much of the details (and in all honesty, I don't wanna know), but I do know that he had a gun and some other person came in a car and shot in three times in the chest. And he passed away. A guy one year older than I am passed away. Someone I knew when I was a little girl. One of the only guys I wasn't intimidated of. A guy who's smile brightened up the room. Someone who was a friend and nothing more. He was murdered.
When I was told yesterday, my immediate reaction was denial. But in a few seconds I changed the subject. I didn't want to have that visually in my head. I didn't want to hear it. I didn't want to even think that was true. I kept going on with a different conversation and then at night it hit me like a brick.
This nineteen year old kid was hanging out with the wrong crowd and was killed because of it.
Why do some of my friends seem to go down that alley he went down? Why can't they all have taken the billions of babies they're having and the struggles as an example and just turn around from that lifestyle? And now he's gone. Angel is gone. Angel's dead. I know it happened, but at the same time I don't wanna believe that it's him. I just can't.
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