I just looked at my buddy list and Serge’s name was there. He was online. I was bewildered for a second, thinking maybe it really was a dream. I slept in and slept pretty well since I hadn’t slept much lately and worked so hard yesterday.

I looked at the away message, and it read the viewing information, as in his funeral.

So many reminders. Some of my MP3 collection is his songs, even direct downloads. I have a pink fuzzy dice that he wanted for his birthday, but I never got to mail him, and this was, sadly, for when he was excited about his new car and driving. On the same note, I have movies I’ve burnt and never sent. I have my stone collection in which he threw across the room one time when he was visiting and was angry at me, but then we were cool later. I have conversations that I saved, pictures he’s given me to show what he’s up to and so fourth.

He’ll be buried on Thursday, and there’s no way I could go to Michigan.

It’s a dream. It’s a fucken bad dream, a sick joke.

He wanted to come here for spring break, asked me what sorts of places he could go to if he and his friends came over. I didn’t know how to say I don’t know since I usually go with my friends. But it would have been so fun to just chill and catch up. So many places to visit and it would have been great.

These are the private pains I bear. For the ones I love, I’d rather suffer every bit than to have them suffer themselves. For those I love, I wish I could take away what they don’t deserve and replace them with what they do. I’d willfully lay down my life for those I love.

And so I can’t? Am I in vain? Just words....