22nd December, 2009. On London Tube.
It feels right now that if I don't immortalise my memories of my recently passed friend, they will soon be pulled into oblivion in his wake. I remember how he and I had our gay handshake to make fun of James and Evan; how we rehashed the sick cat spray joke at every party; how we danced like the black people we weren't; made whale noises because he breached at Katherine's 18th, lol'd at his race-striped car; pretended to call his mum for everything; hated on people without morals; did jizz faces; and after it all, actually got on really well. I will miss making fun of his emo facebook statuses, then chatting about things in a semi-serious way. I will him being in my top two of male friends. I will miss pretending to be his dad and bragging loudly to everyone about "my son, Daniel." I will miss his beautiful oboe playing at Quaranup, and making fun of stupid people with him. I will miss siding with him about being the only two doing a real degree of our friends. I will miss being able to imagine him as a husband, father, and friend with whom I will grow old. Most of all though, I will miss the fact that he was alive, like me; I will miss him until the day I join him, wherever he is.
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