Feeling as productive as the prodigal son, without his insecurities.

This post started out as a mere explanation of why I didn't go to school today, but somewhere in the proceedings and conversation with Benson, it became a reflective piece.

In two days, Kevin Kwan and April Lao will have been dead for 8 months.

So demonstrative right? Its a momentous statement that should be treated with as much care as possible. But I'm just throwing it out there. Does time really erase all pain, or does it simply erase the memories that carry on the seeds of that pain, that loss? I feel like I don't have the right to type that, throw it open to every single person to read out there. For once, I'm not looking for pity, no melodramatic response on this end of the telegram.

It seems so pragmatic. The more I keep it inside, the more it kills me inside. Thats the way that everything works isn't? I cry within, while on the outside, I'm supposed to be the epitome of this fake innocence. But it doesn't work that way.

It's true that I miss you, but life goes on doesn't it? I drag you around while upholding the perfect image of mourning. The image of death remains so foreign to me. During your funeral, it felt so surreal. I stared at your picture, and the only thing I can remember thinking is that that was the picture of you in your classic grey tee, when you were obviously laughing at someone else's expense.

I'm having a difficult time coming up with appropiate words to use descriptively. I haven't had a good chance to come to terms with your death, and I don't believe I ever will. In my mind, you're still here, and when the Boys Swimming Team has another home meet, I'll look for you in any event with butterfly. The idea of death is just another label, one that needs to be associated with you when the term is brought up. I'm afraid now, instinctively, to throw myself wholeheartedly into another obsession, another liking. I'll entertain the idea briefly, but Benson is right. I have changed. We've all changed.

redxblackx: see
redxblackx: you did just recently update
redxblackx: you havent updated since kevins death

This was the prompt of this post to suddenly evolve into another twisted extrapolation of my mind.

Two days after it happened, I had this humongous conversation with Benson (my first main one) about the death (I was about to say incident, but I think I need something a bit more concrete). He brought up something that was rather striking -
redxblackx: how can these guys survive grenades and explosions, and kevin cant even get hit by a truck, i mean yeah its a truck, but still i wish he would have hung on longer, both of them, and this one guy, joe toye, he got hit by two grenades on the same day, and about 2 years later, he finally gets out of combat cause his leg gets blown off by a mortar, and he sayts "wat does a guy have to do around here to get killed"
redxblackx: if the f0ing school told me
redxblackx: i would have ran to westchester
redxblackx: i would have fucking ran there
redxblackx: i dont care if its a three hour drive up there

Its true. I would have left instantaneously. Or that might be just what I'd like to think. Kevin was a constant in my life. He was always there, no matter the time, no matter where. He followed his own schedule, and I seemed to wrap my own schedule around it. In freshman year, I would wait outside his art class and walk down the stairs with him. I would wait outside of his english class and walk down with him. When I walked to spanish class, he would be sitting on the tenth floor bench, eating a sandwich, reminding me to get Stephanie's textbook back to him. When I would cut part of art, I would hang out with him on that exact bench. Most of our memories were congregated on that tenth floor bench, or the sixth floor bench.

This year, I've been up on the tenth floor once. I actually sat down on the bench, alone, and just paused.

The day after his death, Jeffrey and I had second period free again, where Kevin would normally stop by and play his calculator. That day, Jeffrey and I just sat on the floor, and I kept staring into the hallway. Wouldn't he come by?

There are moments when I stop, and see a kid with a Stuyvesant gym bag, wearing a Northface fleece and backpack. I'll see small eyes, and almost no hair, and my heart will stop for a moment. And then I remember everything.

Five days ago, you would have been seventeen in two months.
I have no climatic ending to this entry, besides the fact that I miss you so much Kevin. I know we all do.

You owe me a swimming duck.