Northeastmonk
Gold Member
There was a kid I knew growing up. He got me into Eminem and he had similar interests as me. We weren't close, but we still got along like we were best friends. We stopped talking after he had made up a bunch of lies about a kid being killed in St. Louis. He had my mother crying and we all were devastated about his story. My other friend's dad went to check on him because his story sounded believable. Turned out he was making it all up. This was weird because he would make up this kids voice over the phone and we would talk to this kid like he was someone else. Years went by and I had forgotten about him. I saw his name in the paper because he had set his apartment complex on fire. I never tracked him down to say anything, but a week ago I was told he passed away. He was the same age as me. All these years I never reached out to him, but I saw his face again on his obituary. It brought all kinds of emotions.
A part of me is sad that he died. I don't know how he died. My gut tells me he overdosed. I'll always remember the days we hung out together and the time he lied to me. Somehow I feel like his death was his own fault.
A part of me is sad that he died. I don't know how he died. My gut tells me he overdosed. I'll always remember the days we hung out together and the time he lied to me. Somehow I feel like his death was his own fault.