Thats how I will remember her; just as she was.  Laying in my bed wearing her rastafarian drug rug that twinned my own, holding my lanyard close and my brother even closer.  She laughed as she watched me drink lemonade that I later learned contained laxatives, and she avoided any type of emotional outburst that didn’t reveal that she just might not be okay.  As I started to exit my room and said “Goodbye”, she surprised me.

“Don’t say that Bean.”

I looked down at one brown eye and one eye colored fake blue with a contact lens, and I saw sadness in both.  So I smiled sadly and said,
“Instagram you later.”