photo | robert ott
I met you in first grade. E-17. You were the naughtiest kid in our entire class, and it made your name infamous. The first person to stand up when we were asked to sit down was you. The first person to yell when we were asked to be quiet was you. Compared to the quiet, serious, elementary-school version of me, I can't deny you were an annoyance at the time.
I had essentially no contact with you throughout middle school and high school years. I hardly, if ever, saw you at school. But because I still remember hearing you walk the stage at graduation, listening to everyone who applauded your appearance as you walked the line, you obviously meant the world to your friends. I feel most for those who loved you, only to have you slip away because of one stupid decision.
The way you died is the way hundreds, if not thousands, of teenagers die every year. No one ever imagines it happening in their midst unless the name on the headline suddenly takes the form of a familiar face. It's a peculiar thing. I would be heartless if I were to blame you for your own death, but that part isn't entirely true. Hopefully, you're making the right decisions wherever you are now.
In short, you meant the world to so many people, people who are patiently waiting for the day they'll meet you again. All the same, rest in peace. See you later, Roshan.
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