How can I be happy when the world keeps going?
Don't you guys know that he's dead?
My beautiful, loving, goofy friend
Is dead.
Hunter please come back!
How could he be gone?
How could I be happy when I can't see his face anymore?
I can't ever see his blond hair bouncing around as he walks again.
There's nothing left of my amazing Hunter.
Why aren't they stopping to acknowledge his death?
Don't they know?
I'm so confused.
How can they not have known him?
How could they not have heard of the fiery death he suffered?
How could anyone not have known the amazing, kind, nerdy, dork that was my friend?
Please, take a moment for me.

Take a moment.
Google "Cranberry Road Wisconsin Car Accident Hunter Morby."
He was my friend. I've known him since I was a kid.
Please, just take a moment to acknowledge him.

Hunter. I miss you so much. It feels unreal that you're gone. When I found out that you died it was like someone had just kicked me right in the gut. It knocked the wind out of me. You, Jason, and Landen all in a car accident. You were in the back seat; you had no control over what was gonna happen. Jason was driving. Too fast. He was driving way too fast for Cranberry Road. He lost control of the car and you all got wrapped around a tree.

And then you exploded.

The car was a fiery wreck when the ambulance and the fire trucks and police came. What were you thinking when he lost control of the car? Were you scared? Did you even have enough time to be scared? When they found you, you were burned beyond recognition. They needed your dental records to identify you. I keep seeing your face everywhere I look. I forget that you're gone for a minute and then it's like I just found out all over again. I miss you Hunter. You were so goofy.

I remember two or three years ago we were watching a Packers game at Mandie's friend's house. You saw me eating fruit snacks and you asked me for some. I gave you a pack and that's when it started. Every day at school after that, you'd ask me for my fruit snacks at lunch. I miss that, Hunter. I miss hearing your voice in the choir or in the new musicals. You were so talented. You were nice and funny and the biggest dork I know. I love you, buddy.

The pain is not fiery.
The pain is not cold.
The pain is bitter.

This isn't a poem. This is more like a letter about a girl I knew.
Her name is Christina Grimmie. When she first started out on YouTube, I found her and I loved her. I commented on her video; something about the Zelda poster in the background. We bonded over that. And we talked for a little while, but then we lost touch. For a long time.
In 2014, she was on the voice. I was so proud of her. I sent her a Snapchat congratulating her and telling her how proud I was of her. And after that, we continued to talk. She was there for me when she could be. Sometimes she couldn't answer because she was on tour, or because she was recording, or simply because she was tired. We weren't best friends, but we were close enough to be considered friends. She lost touch with me again. The last thing we said to each other breaks my heart.
I don't know what to do. I'm so mad at everybody. Got any advice?
John 13:34- "A new command I give to you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another." Yu have to love people in order to be happy. If u sit here and resent them, yu wont be happy at all girl! Love yuuu.
She was shot and killed about a month or so later. And I was heart broken. I was so mad at the world. I deleted her from my phone because it was too painful. I regret that decision. I had lost someone so dear to me. I think about her every day. But one day I saw her brother, Marcus, pop up in my friend suggestion box on Facebook. I added him and he added me back. Now we talk all the time and its like I'm talking to her. It's like if you look behind Mark's eyes, there she is smiling back at you.
I don't talk about her much. It feels awkward. But I miss her a lot.

I'm sitting underneath a bridge.
It's very old; almost 200 years old, to be exact.
And while I sit under this bridge, the Earth erupts.
It shakes violently.
I know I shouldn't be under this rickety old concrete bridge,
but I seem to find myself not wanting to move.
The water drips from the ceiling
Onto my face and neck.
I'm scared.
The world around me appears to be crumbling down,
and all I can do is sit here and watch it **** me.

When I was very little, my dad used to make up songs about what he was doing around the house.
Getting ready to go fishing, he'd make up a song.
Making lunch; he'd make up a song.
And once, he was making coffee, and I vaguely remember it.
My dad was holding me while he was pouring the coffee into the coffee filter,
The water in the coffee ***.
I remember him looking at me and smiling and then he sang:
"I love coffee," he'd sing and I'd echo with what he'd sing.
"Coffee every day,"
"When I wake in the morning,"
"It gets me on my way."

-J