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6/25/2003 10:59:00 AM
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On our 17th birthday we went to a rave to celebrate. We were rollin' on Ecstasy and smoking weed, having the time of our lives -- or so we thought. I had already had four beans by 3:25 am, when my brother passed out. At first, I thought it was normal, thinking he got blown up and he'll be awake in a few seconds, like always. Then 30 or 40 seconds flew by when I went to check on him. He wasn't breathing. I started to shake and scream at him. Nothing happened. The whole room got silent. As tears streamed from my eyes my friend came up to me and hugged me. All I could do was cry and hope this was a nightmare or a wake up call. Well, it was both. They called 911 and by the time they got there, there was no hope. They declared Kevin dead on arrival. My mom was called and when I thought nothing worse could happen, hell arrived. I ran away from home because it was all my fault.
It has been six months from my best friend/brother's death I think
about it night and day. I'm still hooked on drugs but I'm starting to quit. It's not easy. As I sit back and think, I feel like it should have been me, not him. I mean, I took four beans and he only took two. I should have been the one to go. I have pictures of him everywhere, just the two of us having the time of our lives, chillin'. But it all ended on our 17th birthday and since then I haven't been alive, I've been in hell.
I love and miss you, Kevin, I think about you 24/7. I'll be up there with you one day! I love you, Bro.
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