"What's depression like?" He asked.

March 28, 4 pm.

March 28, around 4 pm I received a call from my friend Rayne. It's weird how I somehow knew a bad message was coming. That something happened.

I guess that's why I asked "who?" and not "what's up?"

Rayne didn't seem surprised that I expected a bad message, because he normally starts his phone calls saying "what's crackin' hoe?" and stayed horrifically quiet this time.

He didn't use much words to explain what happened. Alex was skateboarding home from school and got hit by a car. He was in the hospital with two broken ribs and a mild concussion.

The skateboard was fine.

You might read this and think: that isn't so bad right? Two broken ribs and a concussion, it could've been much worse.

And that's true. Ofcourse it could've been much worse. We could've lost Alex that day. Without a warning he could've been gone by now.

That's what impacted us. Not that he got hurt, which is ofcourse horrible, but the fact that he could've died because of that car. Because of the luck he had to turn his skateboard to the right so the car didn't crash into him with full power.

It made me feel selfish, because of all the stupid things that I do to myself. Because of how I tried to leave a couple of times, while he almost died without a choice that day.

He could've been dead, while I have tried to die on purpose more than once.

I love Alex. He's one of my best friends and has helped me get over a horrible moment more than once. He has stopped me from doing stuff to myself more than once. He has stayed up with me more than once and he has talked me out of crying more than once.

He has always been there for me, but have I ever been there for him?

No.

I have never done for him what he has done for me and if he hadn't turn his skateboard away, then I would've never even gotten the chance.

I realized something horrible that day. I take Alex for granted. I take Alex, Rayne, Matt, Chance, Riley and all the others for granted.

Like they're a right I own.

But I don't. They aren't my right. There is a chance they'll be taken away from me and there's nothing I can do about it.

Alex came home from the hospital that same day, smiling and saying how big of an idiot he was for not looking out. He was making jokes and talking shit about himself like he didn't got hit by a car that same day.

I feel quilty for not being the friend he is to me. I feel quilty because I can't help him like he helps me. I feel quilty because he could've died that day without knowing that I'm always there for him. I feel quilty for wanting something he almost did without a choice. I feel quilty for taking him for granted, instead of being thankful and saying that to him.

I feel quilty like I was the person in that car, hitting Alex.

And I don't know how to get rid of it.