^Aloha...

^Somehow, the need to be sacastic and witty and funny eludes me tonight. I can't get Sam off my mind. For all of you who don't yet know, he was killed in a car accident on Friday night. I am still in shock. I didn't make the connection that I had known him until this morning when I looked him up in the yearbook. Wow. What can I say but wow? When Vasta pointed him out to me I whispered "Oh shit," and burried my face in my hands. I cried. It's not a reaction I'm proud to showcase with the swearing and all, but it's what I did.

^Sam was one of those special people that you don't meet every day. When I moved here at second quarter of freshman year, I sat behind him in Hon French 1 with Buda. Mme Buda is not always the easiest person in the world to get along with. And all those times where I would say, "I hate this woman, I hate this class, I hate this school, I hate this city, I hate this life and I want to go back to Texas," Sam was the first one to make me laugh and tell me we were all in this together. I am eternally grateful to you for that, Sam.

^If you didn't know him, I wish you had. He was the kind of person that was just cool. And was cool with everybody else. NO matter who you were, he would always make you feel more than welcome - a quality not found in too many people in Millard North. And if he knew you, no matter on what level - from acquaintance to best amigo, he would make a point to say hey in the hall, no matter who he was with. Anyone could find a good time hanging out with Sam. Anyone.

^I still don't think it's actually soaked into my head yet. The little things are affecting me. I always saw him during passing period (between 6th and 7th) and he would always call me the Calculater Bandit (long inside joke I can't even remember) and it would always annoy me, but in a good way. And today, it was so quiet. And it hit me that he will never call me the Calculator Bandit again. I don't know if I can adjust to that. I don't know if I can adjust to those little things. Like the fact that I can't even remember why he called me the Calculator Bandit. Like writing my tales about our everyday encounters (like how he would dash upstairs on the way to 3rd hour - well I assume he was going to 3rd hour and punch me ) in past tense. Past Tense. Because they no longer happen. And they never will. It just doesn't feel right.

^I feel bad. As though I have let him down. I don't deal well with death. The last funeral I went to was my Father's when I was 9. I haven't been able to go to one since. This includes the other friends of mine that have passed away throughout the years. I thought this time would be different. I knew I could muster up the courage to go to his visitation and say "Goodbye..." When I turned onto 78th ( I think I might've been lost) I burst into tears and had to turn back. I couldn't do it. The thought of going to his funeral made me hyperventilate. I almost wrecked my car. I had to pull over. I just can't do it. I don't know why. I feel horrible. I feel like I should go. I can't. I can't. I am so sorry Sam. I hope I haven't failed you. I just wish you would call me the Calculator Bandit just one more time...

That is all...thank you.