by Emily Sufrin
Somehow or another I think Dillon took my hands and helped me craft something about how I feel.
It all started with a car crash. Or maybe that’s how it all ended. We used to fly through our daze like there was a drum beating that was never going to, never could, end. It was like summer tasted better so we feasted and eventually it flowed through our veins making our pulse-our life force, the promise that we were invincible. I see through the languid haze of smoke and thirst for it all. We wanted the world. We went to the happiest place on earth and were granted hoorary citizenship. Our hair, skin, mouths tasted like the place where the earth meets the sky. Milkshakes and french fries and fast cars and poison liquid didn’t mean anything because the bullets just flew past us, like God made us indestructible. We weren’t meant for anything less than saving the world. It was our world. Dillon taught us never say never because we could fly if the song was right. Dillon held you and you were the only two people floating in this sea of summer. He believed so we believed. i guess the point is I just can’t believe the same way. Jack Johnson strums the chords of my heart that’s missing a piece forever and the tears burn like those words, “GIrls, we’ve lost a friend.” When those tires skidded and the world heard our hearts shatter…and I can’t even say it because I want to throw up every organ in my body and cry out, It didn’t happen!” No, I didn’t lose a friend in that moment when the universe opened up a sliver of eternity…I lost a brother. the world lost its Dillon.