Those Who Are Dead, Are Not Dead They're Just Living in My Head..

I was cleaning through my junk drawers the other day, and I found a note from my late teacher Mr. Price. . . It just simply said "Please send _[the kid]_ to me. Mr. Price."   Underneath his signature there's a grease stain in the shape of a heart. I really wish that we could turn back the hands of time. God how dearly do I miss him. . It would have really meant the world to me if he would have seen me cross stage. If I saw him right now I would hold onto him and never let him go. I remember the day I met him and I told him that I wanted to be a Life Coach when I grew up. He had a look of amazement on his face and asked if I knew what that was. He showed the class on the overhead the many occupations he had in his day and Life Coach was on the list. I don't know if these are tears of joy because of all the things you have instilled in me, or tears of sorrow because I miss you. I still think that it was unfair but I guess the bigger picture keeps me sane. But no matter, I miss you. I think you'd be proud to know that I'm still ambitious to discover life. . .