There was this boy I went to high school with. He had the sweetest smile and the goofiest sense of humor. Just talking to him lit people up inside and I know that was his aim--to make people happy. His arms were covered in these amazingly awful tattoos because he let his friends practice on him while they were apprenticing. He'd make a joke to fill any silence. He was even nice to me, the school's social outcast.

I never had a crush on him--barely even knew him, if I'm honest. But a letter on here reminded me of his smile and I thought maybe this could be a good place to share the memories a little. He's been dead for almost six years now. I'm not even sure why it still hurts this bad to remember that, but it does.