You’re gone, and you’re never coming back.

And I don’t know why. He told me, they told me. But it still does not make sense.

I haven’t slept in two days, and eating is another language right now. No one wants to talk, but it’s all we’re thinking about. The memories, the moments, the final words--continuously replaying in our minds.

Your smile, your distinct laughter that always instantly brought me to tears, and the ritual of car horn blaring, obnoxious waving and screaming whenever we caught a glance at each other, are all just memories now. The memories, the texts, the voicemails, haven’t stopped replaying since you left. Your words are now memorized, your voice is now a recorded song.

You left us, your family, your friends; we all love you. And we know you love us too. You understood fully what most don't--you understood how to love, be a friend, and most importantly you always understood, no matter what, tomorrow would be a better day. You were the person to give the needed laugh, say the needed words, and make a person's day--and you wanted to be. You always told me everything would get better.

We know you would be here if it was your choice, and we know God took you from us too soon. We’re bargaining, we’re reasoning, we’re blaming ourselves for the things we didn’t do or say; we just want you back. The "what if?"s and the "maybe?"s overcrowd our minds; we are painfully angry that you can not tell us our "why?"s. All the unanswered questions, the unfulfilled plans and dreams, have kept us up at night looking for the answers we will not find.

This does not make sense, none of this does. A book left unwritten, chapters left untold, and an ending unforeseen.

You’re Gone, and I don’t want to believe it.