really big elephants

nick

there's never really a designated age to grow up at, I've seen 12 year olds with more wisdom than scholars and the elderly. I've seen 16 year olds whose only care in the world is what coffee they're getting that morning. I think experiences, and experiences alone, decide when we finally put down our dolls and grow up.

I've been considered mature for my age, since I was around 12. I never really had a desire for what my peers did, I loved being around the grown ups, learning their vocabulary and opinions, borrowing them as my own. I thought I was growing up and was pretty excited about it, until I met Nick.

Actually his name was Timothy. Timothy Nicholas Alexander Jones, he sat on the complete other side of my eighth grade science class, we were pleasant with each other before then, but it wasn't until first period of eighth grade year that he, in hindsight, changed my life. Then, I just thought he was a goofy kid with a big heart and nothing but corny jokes and bear hug that'd be around forever. But he quickly became my brother, always a clear voice when my thoughts were muddy, my nice words at the end of the day, and someone I shared thousands and thousands of laughs with.  He taught me to loosen up, that life wasn't all that serious, that a D wouldn't ruin my life forever and that boys are plentiful, and our friendship continued-I mean why wouldn't it?

Our school was on a block schedule, but I was blessed enough to have a boy three rows away from me, decked out in an Oregeon ducks shirt making faces at me and the teacher for first period. Fortunate enough to have that same boy, sitting right next to me in fourth period as well. Until winter break came, and i had to leave. Nick was the last person I hugged in Summertown, Tennessee and I'm grateful for that too.

Nick remained my best friend when my mom decided to transplant us 777 miles away, but it's quite inevitable to not grow apart, and sure enough the text messages went from daily to weekly, to every once in a while, the last time I talked to my best friend, before the incident,  was March 8th.

Nick was diagnosed with stomach cancer, a mutual friend messaged me with the earth shattering news while i was in detention. I'm still not sure how the grade clerk didn't hear my heart break into thousands of pieces, how the Earth actually didn't stop because mine sure did. I walked home with my heart in the bottom of my timberlands, my mind an entire mess. Needless to say, I text Nick constantly always met with a funny responce when he was well enough to. It still breaks my heart, to think of the silly goofball I grew up with attached to IVs fighting a disease nobody quite understood. I heard Nicks voice only once on an instagram video before he died. And it'll forever haunt me that a week before he was called home he text me, but I was tired from school and I figured he would be alright, that I would text him when I woke up but I forgot about it. Please, whoevers read this far, please never take anyone for granted. Save there selfies, take pictures, endless pictures, screenshot text messages because one day they'll be gone. I'm begging you, with every fiber in me, not too. It'll kill you.

Now its six months later, and I feel like I've rode the ring of fire 16 times. His name popping up on my timeline breaks my heart all over again, I've sent my best friend messages hell never read, wrote him letters no post office can get to him.

And thats all I can say about that.