I remember beauty. I remember the care and fragility that came with beauty, It was precous and rewarding. I miss beauty, but I'm closer to getting it back. That's a scary concept for me.

Everything must change. Now is change something to be held back or encouraged?

John was a cool guy. I had heart surgery in the years of middle school. I was a little dibiltated for a while. John was the only mutha who still treated me like I wasn't something fragile. I was a boy and I wanted to participate in boyish activites. I'd fake hit hime and he would go right fro the chest, right where I still had gauze pads covered with blood and seepage from my wounds. He didn't care that I was wounded, he acted like I was normal. First instance of this that I can remember.

John died between freshman and sophmore year at my HS. He was in one of those christian vans that held too many passengers to be going up into the mountains. The van went over the edge of a barrier and rolled. John died.

I read about it in the school newspaper when they showed who had died over the summer. Can't remember the others, but he stood out. Why? I guess he was a friend. I'm bummed about what happened to him... I wonder who else still has thoughts of him. I wonder who else of my friends from my past are dead. I used' to roll with an interesting crew, wouldn't be suprised if most of them were gone now.

I've had a lot of death happen in my life. I've even held someone as they took their last breath. I've seen a soul disappear, or move on, or something. Hmmm, I wonder the long term effect of this occurrance.

-Nate, Tiard, Ambian, Out