a couple days ago, dylan pitman killed himself.
dylan is one of those people that I see once or twice a year (since high school) and still get nervous and tight-chested around. my middle school crush on him has never ever ever subsided, and i've always been completely fascinated with him. i've literally never met anyone funnier in my life, and although that humour came from a very dark place, it brightened everyone around him. i don't know who failed dylan, if anyone. i don't know which institution could've worked harder to prove his worth to him. but it isn't that simple. david foster wallace uses a metaphor for suicide that reads something like, suicide is jumping out of a building that's already on fire. it is the less painful of two deaths. to choose life in such a situation is to choose a slower, more painful death. dylan hasn't wanted to be alive for a while, and maybe it would suffice to say the world wasn't ready for his spirit and sharpness.
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