Lost and Broken

It all started when my friend since preschool committed suicide. We were not best friends or anything, but that was just him. He was a shy quiet kid, good family, church boy, track star, and a really good kid. I heard about it from my sister on the night he hung himself, and then as expected, from everyone at school the net day. Everyone was talking about it, saying they were best friends, writing the date on their backpacks or arms, and I sat there just getting angrier and angrier that he would leave me here. He left me all alone, and now I have to deal with these fake people at school, and worse the ones who came to the funeral. Everyone who claimed to be his “best friend” saw him for the first time in his casket. They all asked me why I was there? Why I sat in the front? Why I balled my eyes out? And the only thing I could say to one ballsy for who went up to me and his brother and said I had no right to be talking to his family, that they did not care what I had to say, that they did not know me was how can you sleep at night knowing what kind of person you are? The girl wound up watching his brother hug me and take me away before I lost it. She came up to me the next day in class and asked who the guy I was with was. And why he was so far beyond upset. I wanted to hit her so bad, I was just so angry. But I realized my anger was not just at her but at Preston, for leaving me behind. I have thought one too many times about joining him, but I can not do it to our mini family that we created over these past two years with his brother and my old best friends.