a tall personality

The first person I knew that died was my grandma.  I distinctly remember feeling like I couldn't feel as sad as I thought I was supposed to feel because it just didn't make sense to me that she would be gone forever.  Not only did I feel like I would see her again, but that she wasn't very far away. When I was in elementary school a boy close to my age died in an accident involving another young family member and a firearm.  I remember being confused that one day he was there and then he was gone.  I hadn't seen anything happen or change, he was just gone.  I knew the story of what happened, but it still made so little sense to me how he could just be gone, the emotion I remember the strongest is overwhelming confusion. In 5th grade Fauna, who had been in my class for most of my life and was in my girl scout troop lead by my mom, was trapped in a fire.  I think that was the first time I felt the sadness.  Classmates and teachers taped notes to her locker telling her

It was an idyllic summer night.  Sunset in the avenues, a semi-famous musician making a backyard of  people exclusively of my demographic sway.  Wafts of expensive cologne graced the air around the most common type of young man there who seem to spend a lot of time at the gym after work.  Their job descriptions sometimes are so foreign to me that I get a little bored before they finish saying them.  In their free time they like to water ski. Almost without exception the girls were wearing some variation on the theme of skinny jeans, flowy tops, long beach-curly hair, big jewelry, and strappy sandals...myself included.  I didn't mean to fit in that well and I felt a little ill at ease about it. I sat alone in the back so I could watch for my friends who were coming.  A girl who also fit the mold for the party and was in the same boat as me sat in the chair next to me.  It wasn't long before a very handsome man taller than anyone has any business being asked if he could s