Okay, so what made me write this was actually kind of ironic in every bit of way and form. So what pretty much happened was I was riding down to Kentucky with my mom, sister and grandmother so we could see my cousin get married and all of the sudden I got really sad for no reason. Okay, what to do, I have nothing to do, my phone's dead. The dvd player died in the middle of Moana, and I'm not hungry... I know, I'll write in my journal. And when I got my pen out, all of the sudden, the thought of my friend that committed suicide came into my head and I just wrote for the remainder of the trip which was around like 20 minutes.

So, how I want you to picture the end is someone sitting in front of a tombstone that reads Jane Doe, and this person is pretty much reciting this poem in front of her grave because they don't want to accept the fact that this person they were so close to just up and died on them (causes of death can be infered, or whatever you see fit).