I'm really tired, and I tried to push this memory to the back of my mind for seven years now. It's not mine to have though. We were both in the hospital. Only one made it out.

I can't really talk about this with anyone except my doc. My family told me to move on, that it's not my business. I don't think I am entitled to feel this way-to feel like I shouldn't be here. It's selfish.

What happened? It was a coincidence. I was 15. I was recovering from major surgery-something very dire-and he was fighting cancer. He was 13. I remember not really knowing if it was real, talking to him while I was recovering. He was in an electric wheelchair.

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I couldn't comprehend it. He was on my brothers little league team. He was my neighbor. Why was he in a wheel chair?

My mom-bluntly-told me Sam (Not his real name) was dying.

Sam had a twin.

The short story is that Sam died. I remember the last time I saw him. He was surrounded by baseball stuff in the hospital room. I'd been out for weeks. If I was out of that miserable place, surely he would be too?

No.

It was 6:30 am. I was being dropped off at school with another girl (I loathed her.) My mom, instead of saying goodbye, said this:

"By the way, Sam died last night."

She drove off.

I broke down in front of my English teacher, who didn't really know what to do. I was so angry. I would have traded places with Sam, not out of self-hatred, but out of the fact that he had a family who missed him. He had so much to give.

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It didn't matter that I had a brother, and a family. What potential did I have? I was just some smartass.

Life went on though, but sometimes I remembered Sam.

Now it's 2014. I just glanced at my Facebook. His twin posted a status, with pictures.

It's been seven years since Sam died. I don't know why I'm crying. I can't bring Sam back, nor am I supposed to. I just...I don't know.

Sam, I miss you. You were an amazing person.