Leap of Faith

I've been having a great week so far. Therefore, the fucked up beginning to this Saturday should come as no surprise.

Makes no sense, right? Well, it does to me. I suffer from an irrational fear of success. It only pulls at my stomach when things are going well. Every positive event that occurs has a correlating feeling of doom. It's actually not as irrational as it sounds; the gripping feeling is from experience. This past week alone is example enough:

I found out I passed my Praxis (like the LSAT for teachers. Just as hard). Then my admissions counselor called and told me I didn't get the roommate I wanted. And I had to pay to get my fingerprints taken.

I got back with my ex, and it was like we never broke up! Then he had a bombshell to drop on me. (No details, you nosy mf'ers.)

I proclaimed yesterday, May 21^st, as one of the best social networking days ever, solely because I (along with @akreatif and #HOVquote )had people tweeting Jay-Z lyrics on Biggie's birthday (insert EVL).

I logged into twitter today, and saw people tweeting about someone named Keith, and what happened to him. I didn't pay it any attention because I was so impressed by the omelet and orange juice that magically appeared in the bed with me, and needed to tweet my good fortune.

I logged into Facebook, and saw the following post in my news feed:

Cornell Gaulmon > Keith Polo It's hard to believe that you're gone. RIP man. May God bless and keep you and your family. We will miss you.

My head shook from side to side, as if the wall post would change, or if Cornell's recipient wouldn't be Keith anymore.

My mom called me soon after, and I noticed I had a voicemail from my cousin Chris. I had to believe my eyes.

If you read my last post, you'll understand why I didn't want a phone to tell me someone else I knew had died.

My dad texted me about my grandma, and Zoelina.

Darrah texted me about Cameron.

And now, Facebook told me about Keith.

Keith and I weren't always cousins (it'll make sense later, I promise). I first met him in class at Doubletree Elementary. We were cool, because I was friends with all the guys, plus he had asthma like I did. J Our teacher had all of our names on her desk, written on little apples. My mom came to the class one day, and saw Keith's name on one of the apples. She said his name, and asked me to show her who he was. I did, and she said, "That's your cousin. Chris' nephew."

We didn't become cousins until then! (Now you get it.) I won't pretend we were best friends or glorify some newfound connection I had with him. But we did talk on Facebook. I'd get a "happy birthday Cuzzo" wall post every April, and return the favor in August. I saw him out and chatted with him about whatever. Just because we weren't close cousins doesn't mean his loss doesn't hurt. Add the fact that I've lost Zoe and Cameron, 23 and 22 respectively, and Keith's 22 years just don't seem long enough.

With my post about Zoe, I said all I had to say about having people taken from your life. That's all I would have wanted to say about Keith. But may I please add one more comment, for future reference, in case someone else I know/love in their early 20s is murdered?

Down with the interwebs, and fuck text messaging.