CHAD IS DEAD

What more is there to really say, aye? Here is a poem that reminds me of him, by the grandmaster of depression and phrasial eloquence himself, Edgar Allen Poe.

ALONE
From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.

The chasm created by his parting is deep and disruptive through my core, and now I'm going to bed to escape it all for a few hours b4 going to fucking school again. Chad I miss you.