I just got the news of a girl I knew, a girl I laughed with, a girl whose smile brightened so many of my days, so many years of my life back in my hometown, has been killed.

It’s moments like this that rock your foundation.

You’re sitting in a quiet room, listening to the cars rush by the street outside your window. You’re listening to soft music. The sun is just barely reaching your toes from behind the closed blinds.

And suddenly you feel sick.

Suddenly your heart aches for that beautiful soul. Suddenly you think about her family, her friends, her boyfriend who was worried when he didn’t hear back from her after a few hours.

Suddenly you think about the fragility of life, of your family, about your friends, about the people you’ve loved. Gone.

Your breathing catches. Goosebumps run down your arms and spine. You feel lightheaded and heavy all at once.

There are no words.

No words for this kind of loss. The strange sense of having so much to say, but not knowing how. And not being able to.

So I do the only thing I know how to—I stop everything and I write. I write about the fragility of life, of loss, of pain. And I cry. And I breathe. And I remind myself how wonderful it is to be alive.