The passing of someone is a touchy subject — no matter what the cause of death. The passing of someone Young is touchier — also, no matter what the cause. But somehow, the passing of someone Young who doesn’t know how to handle their minds, their liver, their lungs, their whole physicality for which could have been controlled — there is remorse, but very little.

My mom keeps telling me about stories of how many young patients she intakes at work. The many injury, paralysis, trauma, vegetable-stated, cancer and death stories, etc. have all been relayed to me with the intention of telling me life is short. I know that, mom. 

But that’s not what this is about.

It’s the young one’s who come in short of breath because they’ve overdosed on (name your drug here) for the night — that just takes me aback. 

You were so young. So fruitful.

So rotten.

There was about 4 people who died at my mom’s hospital during the EDC rave over the weekend. And for some reason, it was enough for me to want to talk about it. Should I be shocked about it? Yes, I was, but it was undoubtedly expected. And it’s stupid. Eye-opening, but stupid.

It could have been the bad dealer, the bad friend, or maybe it was just… you.

I can go into how fair life is — or rather, isn’t — taking the life of a good person who has struggled so much; how at any given moment your life will flash before you; how the volume of fear, sadness, empathy, remorse, pain, and maybe even relief of someone dear can shed so much onto one grave — I can talk about that or any aforementioned stories my mom has told me, but my screen will blur and my hands will shake.

No one goes to a Rave with the intentions to die. No one. You’re just 1 in some 7,000+; it’s a small odd. It’s about the people, the music, the fun, the lights, the shows, and more the majority: The instant gratification of being drunk, high, or both. I surely didn’t think of death when I went to EDC back in… 2001. But I didn’t drink, didn’t smoke, didn’t drop, didn’t OD — so this ain’t about me. I wasn’t a considered a true “Raver” cuz I didn’t. 

Fuck that.

Pushing life’s limits — it’s a thrill, until you’ve passed the limits. Then, it’s not so thrilling anymore. You are the scraps your loved ones have to pick it up.