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I just found out that a friend with whom I served on a city board in high school died this weekend. He was only 22. Although I didn't know him very well, and never kept in touch, I still feel personally affected by his death. Death is such a weird thing, because it can just happen. I think I have this perception that other people die, but that I won't (at least not for a very long time), but I realize that I never know what is going to happen to me, and that's an odd realization to have. My mom and I got into a mini-argument on Monday because I told her that I was going to go to a "Traveller's Bar" that night to try and meet some compañeros for my travells. She told me that I should be careful. At that moment, I was so bored with being by myself all the time, that I just started crying....I was finally taking the risk of doing something about not knowing anyone, and all my mom could do was say "be careful!" Of course I was going to be careful. I don't usually do ridiculous, stupid, unsafe things, so it made me mad that she said such a meaningless thing at that moment. But, I can't even imagine what it's like for a mother to have to let her child do things, to not make her stay inside everyday in case something bad happens, in case she never sees her child again. That's what this poor mother of my friend is now dealing with, and that's really painful to think about. So, of course, we can't go about our lives always looking up and down and all around, not willing to "do" out of fear. But, I also want to always remember that my moment could be one of many, of any. That even 20-somethings are not immune to death.

I don't know how my friend died, but I do know that it could have been me. I don't want to forget that when I talk to or see anyone dear to me could be the last. When I was younger (and even now), I hated going to bed being mad at anyone. I have an obsession with reconciliation, with forgiveness. What if something happened in the night, and I never got to say I was sorry.

Okay, this is no longer making any sense, and I'm just rambling on. I know I shouldn't be sad that he died. And, I'm not really sad. That's not a good word to describe how I feel. An opposite of "happy" that doesn't really mean much. His death should serve as a reminder of how I want to live my life. Something that I do, honestly, think about every day.