To The Troubled Departed

The last time I talked to him he was animated and exuberant, we talked about what it was like being back in Oberlin and he even gave me a hug. The time before that he was doing lines in Jon's room, and I thought how scary this kid was, how there was a universe of something aberrant in his eyes. I had seen him around town a couple times this last month, but I always averted eye contact, not wanting really to say anything to him. Stuck in my little box. Do you ever wonder which side of the glass you're on?

Ian is dead, and I haven't really heard much about what happened other than the scattered bits and pieces that the rumor mill is churning out. He might have taken people with him. He might have taken anyone with him. What happened, what happens, how far does a life have to break...? Ian is dead, we used to party with that kid when we'd sneak out at night, we used to belong to the same secret society. He shot his brains out. He holed himself up with a rifle in a barn across the gas station and took pot shots at random people before he did it, though. He was beautiful, all eyelashes and lips, although you never wanted to be alone with him. There was some anger in there, some hatred that went deeper than you could follow. Ian is dead, he's just gone, just like that. Two weeks or so ago I saw him riding his bike in front of the gym as I ran inside....

And it makes me wonder which side of the glass I'm on.