Hey C,

I miss you. It's been more than eight years since you left the world. Father Time seems to move faster than I can stand at times. I still can't believe it's been more than eight years. But as others would say you're in a better place.

I remember back before I left for Germany that we were part of a game that was in a word: cruel. One of us would be rushed to the hospital, whether it was for one of your attacks or one of my seizures. I still wonder why I was allowed to survive. Because as we both know, if He gave me the chance I would trade May 7, 1998 for March 26, 2003.

It was an interesting time when you left, I had been back for four months and school was…well not good. You had a front row seat to see me break down with all the crud people threw my way. One guy in eighth grade went as far to threaten to kill me. But of course, after that year I never saw him again so no big deal.

Then in July 2005, I made one of the hardest decisions I've made in quite a while: not taking my sister-friend Ali up on her offer to go to the same high school. Perhaps you can explain to me why in the world I didn't take the offer? Or is that against the rules up there?

Well, being a stupid freshman boy like everyone else, I thought that high school would give me a fresh start. Boy was I wrong. People still held grudges against me; and even the "safe haven" of sports was harsh. Save two of my teammates and my coaches, I had to really prove that I could run with them. By the year's end I had done just that. But I was also wondering if I had made the right decision to attend my high school, instead of going along with Ali.

Sophomore year went better. The grudges vanished and people didn't judge me like they had in previous years. I met a few new friends that I began to have lunch with regularly. Though I admit, I only knew one of them well seeing as we lived and rode the bus together.

Junior year was better than sophomore year. We had a winning football record! Hey, we're Texans! Nothing beats football! That was in the fall though. In the spring I had to contend with those cruddy TAKS tests. As you saw, I passed most of them the first time; it was only math that I had to take a few times.

Senior year. My last year trapped in public school! The fall semester was crazy to say the least. There are too many to list here. Then Spring sprang up. I get notified that I've been chosen to take part in Shattered Dreams, an alcohol-awareness program. I met some new friends there and saw some old ones.

Not two weeks after that I met a freshman, Vivian. I started having lunch with her and for some strange reason; she began to tell me her life story. After each "chapter" she would ask me, "Why am I telling you this?" I didn't have an answer. Maybe you could tell me why? A few days passed and I found out that Vivian lives in our neighborhood. You wouldn't happen to have a hand in this would you? After she had told me her story, she demanded that I tell her mine. Being the insane person I am, I complied. Though I a shorter timeframe for mine.

Graduation came and went. The summer produced some interesting conversations. Ali was going to school in New York in the fall, and I learned Vivian's address, just to name a few.

College started and I gloated that I got Fridays off. Of course that didn't sit well with Vivian. Vivian came up with a counter-saying; which she used extensively. My first semester of college was very dull. I went back to visit my high school but apart from that, nothing much else happened.

A week after my semester had ended, I get a phone call. Much to my surprise, Vivian's name shows up. (Since we had only texted back and forth up to this point.) I answered:

"Since all my friends have other things to do and abandoned me, you're coming to the show!" Vivian greets me.

"No, I'm not." I reply.

"Let me rephrase that. YOU DON'T HAVE A CHOICE!"

This is how our conversation opened up. Eventually, I gave in after a while. Maybe you can tell me why in the world I can't refuse Vivian's demands? I went to her Christmas theater show and was pleasantly surprised. She's got great acting skills.

During Spring Break 2010 was our next little get together. (This get-together was really an offer, not a demand.) Vivian's mother and I had just arrived at Vivian's school with Subway for lunch when I got a phone call from Vivian:

"YOU'RE COMING IN!" Vivian averred. I muttered a reply.

During lunch I got to meet her robotic teammates. The girls were kind and the guys were guys. I had had enough of one of the guys and simply said, "You need to open your ears, and shut your mouth!" Which he did.

After lunch, Vivian and one of her girlfriends and I went to the mall to browse and watch a movie. After about ten minutes, something came over me. I don't know exactly why, but I started to constantly look around to see where the girls were.

For some odd reason, I got this sense of responsibility. That I need to protect them because seeing as I was the oldest by far, if something were to happen to either of them I'd feel responsible for it. (I was thinking that a gunman might come and start shooting.) I didn't care if I died in the process, so long as the girls were alive and well.

To make matters worse:

"I'm sorry," Vivian's friend told me after we had browsed the fifteenth store.

"Let's not torture, Phillip." Vivian says with a sly smile.

If you only knew what I was thinking. I thought.

Fortunately, my worst-case scenario didn't come alive. Hopefully it never will. But I still worry about her. It doesn't help that I'm moving to Columbus, Ohio in late December. Can you tell me if this is a test? Or is that against the rules? Stupid Recession…

Thanks for listening to my rambling,

Phillip