And, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't get him out of your head. Even after he died, you could still hear him. After years of thinking about it, I figured what he was telling me. His time had come, and mine hadn't. So he was telling me to live life for him, and this was the only way he could thank me for being there.
Every survivor has a graveyard.
Every step I take, I go deeper and deeper. I see names on the wall and it hurts me. I stop in front of my friend's. I cry and touch his name. I turn and start walking.