Back in middle school, the two of us were inseparable. We were two awkward nerdy kids who along with a few of our less intelligent friends would go around doing all kinds of naughty things. Sticking metal into electrical outlets, flooding bathrooms, pranking teachers. We never got in trouble of course, two smart nerdy looking kids breaking the rules? They never suspected us.
At the end of 8th grade, his parents decided rather suddenly that they no longer loved each other and got a hasty divorce. He was devastated. After that, it was like he became a different person, quiet, reserved, angry. That summer he was rarely around. He went to live with his grandparents the town away as his parents' rather nasty divorce was running its course. When we got to high school, we started to stick together again, because we both felt a bit lost (being the awkward and nerdy freshman we were). He just wasn't the same person though, and started drifting away and associating with older kids. Kids that weren't worth knowing. The kids that usually end up killing themselves or landing in jail before they get out of high school. They all had one thing in common though: they were all angry at something.
Sometime during 9th grade my friend told me he started smoking marijuana. Being the naive kid I was at the time, I was rather horrified by the concept, and it made us drift apart even more. Over the next couple years, marijuana came to dominate his life. He was addicted. As I began to flourish academically, taking all advanced classes, surrounding myself with a bunch of smart nerdy friends, he was slipping behind. I rarely saw him come to school sober. Every time I saw him its like he wasn't all there. His eyes were droopy, sometimes he reeked of weed. In 11th grade he finally got caught for smelling like marijuana and was suspended for a week. Every time I thought about my former best friend it was like a weight had been dropped on me. The worst thing was that there was nothing I could do about it. When he returned to school, I found out he had started selling marijuana, and by the end of the year, he decided to drop out of school, apparently to pursue a life dealing on the streets.
Then something strange happened. One day in the summer after I graduated high school, when I hadn't seen or heard from him for well over a year, I got a call. He told me he was working at a local grocery store a town away, and wanted to see me. He seemed rather distressed. I invited him over to my house and saw him a couple days later. He explained that his life was going downhill, he was having trouble holding jobs, and was sick and tired of the people he was surrounded with. He told me he was lost in a sea of insanity, and I was one of the only sane people he could think of to talk to. He told me his life selling marijuana was over. But he was addicted. I started seeing more and more of him, he moved back home with his mom, who lived just down the street from me. Only problem was, my poor friend was almost always high. He just could not stop. There was nothing I could do about it. Fortunately he stuck exclusively to marijuana, so things could definitely have been much worse. By the end of the summer, he disappeared just as mysteriously as he appeared. His mom said he just packed up one day and left.
I hadn't heard anything from him for 3 years. I was away at college, I'd cut off most of my ties to my community at home. 3 months ago, I got a letter from his mom. She said he had been arrested for possession of marijuana with intent to sell. Apparently he got caught while getting a speeding ticket, and smelling like weed. They said he had about a pound of pot in the trunk of his car, which he was transporting across county lines to sell. He got 3 years in prison, but didn't last that long. Today, 3 months into his sentence, I got a call from his mom saying he'd killed himself. He slit his throat with a sharp piece of metal he'd fashioned and bled out before they could do anything. It didn't matter though. He was long gone before then. This great kid, who I'd spent my wonderful formative years with, died to me many years ago. I knew it in 10th grade when I saw him every day, with that blank empty stare, those droopy stoned eyelids. He was gone from this world long before today.
RIP Jimmy, I wish things could have worked out differently for you, it just wasn't fair. I hope wherever you are now, you're happy, for the first time in a long time. I'll always remember you.
At the end of 8th grade, his parents decided rather suddenly that they no longer loved each other and got a hasty divorce. He was devastated. After that, it was like he became a different person, quiet, reserved, angry. That summer he was rarely around. He went to live with his grandparents the town away as his parents' rather nasty divorce was running its course. When we got to high school, we started to stick together again, because we both felt a bit lost (being the awkward and nerdy freshman we were). He just wasn't the same person though, and started drifting away and associating with older kids. Kids that weren't worth knowing. The kids that usually end up killing themselves or landing in jail before they get out of high school. They all had one thing in common though: they were all angry at something.
Sometime during 9th grade my friend told me he started smoking marijuana. Being the naive kid I was at the time, I was rather horrified by the concept, and it made us drift apart even more. Over the next couple years, marijuana came to dominate his life. He was addicted. As I began to flourish academically, taking all advanced classes, surrounding myself with a bunch of smart nerdy friends, he was slipping behind. I rarely saw him come to school sober. Every time I saw him its like he wasn't all there. His eyes were droopy, sometimes he reeked of weed. In 11th grade he finally got caught for smelling like marijuana and was suspended for a week. Every time I thought about my former best friend it was like a weight had been dropped on me. The worst thing was that there was nothing I could do about it. When he returned to school, I found out he had started selling marijuana, and by the end of the year, he decided to drop out of school, apparently to pursue a life dealing on the streets.
Then something strange happened. One day in the summer after I graduated high school, when I hadn't seen or heard from him for well over a year, I got a call. He told me he was working at a local grocery store a town away, and wanted to see me. He seemed rather distressed. I invited him over to my house and saw him a couple days later. He explained that his life was going downhill, he was having trouble holding jobs, and was sick and tired of the people he was surrounded with. He told me he was lost in a sea of insanity, and I was one of the only sane people he could think of to talk to. He told me his life selling marijuana was over. But he was addicted. I started seeing more and more of him, he moved back home with his mom, who lived just down the street from me. Only problem was, my poor friend was almost always high. He just could not stop. There was nothing I could do about it. Fortunately he stuck exclusively to marijuana, so things could definitely have been much worse. By the end of the summer, he disappeared just as mysteriously as he appeared. His mom said he just packed up one day and left.
I hadn't heard anything from him for 3 years. I was away at college, I'd cut off most of my ties to my community at home. 3 months ago, I got a letter from his mom. She said he had been arrested for possession of marijuana with intent to sell. Apparently he got caught while getting a speeding ticket, and smelling like weed. They said he had about a pound of pot in the trunk of his car, which he was transporting across county lines to sell. He got 3 years in prison, but didn't last that long. Today, 3 months into his sentence, I got a call from his mom saying he'd killed himself. He slit his throat with a sharp piece of metal he'd fashioned and bled out before they could do anything. It didn't matter though. He was long gone before then. This great kid, who I'd spent my wonderful formative years with, died to me many years ago. I knew it in 10th grade when I saw him every day, with that blank empty stare, those droopy stoned eyelids. He was gone from this world long before today.
RIP Jimmy, I wish things could have worked out differently for you, it just wasn't fair. I hope wherever you are now, you're happy, for the first time in a long time. I'll always remember you.
Sorry, man. 
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