Those Worse Off Than You

"I seriously don't know why I am here," I said quietly to myself. "This is stupid."

"I could think of a few reasons," a voice said from behind me.

"Are you stalking me or something," I asked, not having to turn around to figure out who it was.

"No. Well, kind of- but only this time. But I just wanted to say sorry. I didn't mean to run off... I just-"

"It's alright; you don't need to tell me."

"Yea, I do. That's what friends do," he said and sat down on the other side of me, neither of us looking at each other yet.

"So, we're friends now, are we?"

"I thought we were. Aren't we," he asked.

"I... I don't know. I guess so- if you want to be and all."

"Anyways- I am sorry for running off. I... I tend to do that."

"So, I'm not the only one with problems," I said sarcastically, trying to bring some joy into the conversation. Unfortunately, there isn't anything joyful about two depressed kids with problems sitting in a cemetery.

"No, you're not."

"What was wrong, anyways?"

"I... I don’t know. I just had a feeling."

"Oh; those pop up a lot," I remarked.

"I never got to ask you something last night. If it's alright to ask... what happened to you're friend?"

I looked at the grass, running my fingers across it lightly, taking a deep breath before I started. "He was walking home one night... and he was... hit… by a drunk driver. They never caught the guy... to tell you the truth- I think they stopped looking."

"That... sounds like it sucks for everyone."

"Yea... it was really hard on his parents. They were real messed up afterwards. They've never gotten over it. My mom just chooses to ignore it."

"You can't expect to get over things like that... ever. It leaves a permanent scar inside you. It's hard loosing someone you love."