At 3:15 this afternoon, Russ passed away in his father's arms. I am, oddly, relieved. Not because of any callousness on my part, but, rather, the bizarre connection that I seem to have with those who've shuffled off this mortal coil. At first I believed myself to be having more schizophrenic episodes, however my mom just told me a few moments ago
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i remember standing up, far in the back of a mcchapel at my "first" funeral, for a sweet sweet girl i went to school with whom i'd had a great crush on from the first moment i'd seen her. i remember feeling guilt that day because just two years prior i'd feebed out of a funeral for a relatively good friend. i'd sworn not to go to funerals ever.
you always remember your first.
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