K.

She's my friend, my sister. She was all brightness and pointed energy, with the kind of red hair that dyes can only try to imitate. She could make anyone and everyone laugh. She would listen to you when you were upset, and tell you that you were right, it did suck, but that it'd be okay, and you'd believe her. She owned a shirt that said "I use boys for sex" across the front, and she wore it. She was beautiful and sweet, but she could hold her own in any fight or argument, and would. It took twenty minutes to go 100 feet on campus with her; she knew everyone, and would stop to talk with each and every one of them that crossed her path, because that's how she was; everyone loved her.

She was driving home last night, with a friend, when an SUV T-Boned her car, her tiny old Toyota. She was killed instantly, so was her passenger. So now she can only make us laugh when we remember the crazy things she did, she can only fight for what she wants through us doing it for her. "She will be missed" seems like a stupid thing to say; she's already missed, so much it hurts.

Bye, K.