K

I had a friend named Kerrigan who once told me that

it was hard to eat because she had anxiety. 

I would try to feel bad but in the back of my mind

I would think, "It's easy, just eat the food"

She would disappear for hours to the bathroom during cheer camp or at dinner

Only to come back quiet and pale. 

I felt like the horrible person I was being internally

yet I stayed quiet. 

In high school, she loved everyone

And everyone loved her.

She had more friends than most people I have known through my life

always making sure everyone felt as loved as the next

I always wanted to be one

I always did feel like one, 

Yet I always wanted to be perfect, 

until I found out there is no perfect in this world

Over a year ago Kerrigan drove off of the side of an embankment, 

crushing her car 

Dreams 

and her frail cadaver that had been so filled with love

I got a call from my now ex-best friend 

with her haunting words saying

"Kerrigan's passed away" 

and with every slow heart beat my head screamed no this can't be happening

But it did. I have the colored scars to prove it. 

I used to think people were perfect, and if they could give so much love that they were happy. 

If I could I'd ask Kerrigan, who is now permanently laying silently in her final bed, 

while we, the imperfect ones, 

sit, stand, walk, run in her place, 

telling stories, 

raising families, 

hurting ourselves,

hurting others because this person taught us that 

Loving and giving are something that everyone should do

And we don't know how. 

And we don't want to because we aren't ready, 

We aren't ready to say goodbye to God's angel

We can't accept that everything does happen for a reason

No matter how twisted. 

[Pause] 

In high school, I met a girl named Kerrigan, who loved to sing. 

She taught me how to be imperfect. 

And the day she left I learned that our time together 

on this earth; was indeed

Perfect.