Run, Katie, Run!

I'm not sure quite what to say. But writing (typing) is always a good idea.

Somebody who went to my school was killed last Friday in a freak accident involving a runaway parked car. I didn't know him very well. At all. I didn't even know his last name until after his death. But I do know that he was close to some of my good friends. I can't imagine how much they are hurting right now.

At this point I would like to say something very profound about death:
...

... ... ...

I don't know. It's hard to find meaning in this thing that nobody expected. He was here one day and gone the next. One minute he was busy impacting the world...and then the next minute he was crushed by a car. Those who loved him will never see him again. Those who would've loved him will never have the chance.

I can't help but feel some kind of sick relief. Relief that if a teenager had to die in Des Moines...that it wasn't mine. That it wasn't MY best friend. That it wasn't MY lover. I hate myself for thinking this, because I know that for some people, that's exactly what Logan was. Someone special. Someone essential. Someone irreplacable.

When I met him (it was only in February), I had no idea that he would be gone in just a few short months. He didn't look like a doomed teenager. He didn't stick out to me as special...except that he was particularly good at cello and that he had a big smile on his face. But there was no evidence that he would die. No otherworldly premonition. Nothing in his eyes that made me suspect that he was anything other than one of us. Forever.

Maybe he will be one of us forever. After all, he is in my little Central Academy yearbook. Among all the other vivacious young teenagers I barely knew. One by one they will all cease to be people and start to be memories. And that's what Logan is right now: a memory.

I don't have too many memories of him. But I'll always remember his face, his smile. I'll remember that he had amazing talent and an amazing presence and that it wasn't fair the way he was taken. It could've happened to any of us. It's just not fair.