So many things we promised ourselves that we'd accomplish have died with the thickness of your pulse and with my drive. We may not have gone on the adventures we planned. In our years -- just shy of nineteen-- how could we have learned to live fast before we ran out of time? But, glancing down at your legs in the ICU, I saw, from the dozens of marks, that you lived. There resided a scar for every bet that you wagered and lost. I cannot even fathom the number of invisible scars, of the battles you won. Though I am forced to realize that nineteen is a minuscule number, you packed all that was necessary into it. Nineteen, you know, is so much more than a number. It was a two in the morning trip to Denny's, a walk to class, even if it made you late, a 5am phone call, and a compliment when any of us felt down. It is absolutely everything it needed to be. I don't know how you did it, but you completed a lifetime in under nineteen years. The truth of the matter is that we may have lost you, but you've changed more lives, helped more people, loved more, and gotten more scars than anyone who lived eighty, or ninety, or one hundred years could have. For that, you will always be my hero.
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125,018 Literary Works • 672,857 Reviews
Heart-warming was the first thing to pop into my head. I'm not even going to review your grammar because it's so spot-on correct, and so was the writing in general. I don't even need to ask if it's true, because it so obviously is. I don't believe in saying that you'll be in my prayers, one because I don't pray, two because saying that is the LEAST amount of help you can give someone. But I will say that I'm sorry to hear about your loss. It's horrible that anyone can die at the age of nineteen, so young. I also noticed that this is your first piece, and that it also managed to make the top five, which is a VERY impressive achievement to me. Keep up the good work. Solid job.
Beautiful work!
It pains me to hear that a young man could die at the tender age of nineteen, and that he was your best friend. My deepest condolences.
There isn't much wrong with this work, but it could be a little better if it wasn't just one big paragraph. I would try doing your best to split it up a little bit, for easier reading and an overall improved work. The last sentence ("For that...") would be splendid on its own also. I adore those final two sentences, by the way.
This doesn't really make sense. How would a walk to class make him late?
I don't like it when a work leaves me with nothing more to say.
First off, I am very, very sorry for your loss. I know how it feels to lose someone very, very, very, extremely close to you in the worst way possible. As a companion, I would love to help you make this piece neater since I don't have anything to say storywise.
Write out the numbers, so I would say "nineteen," "eighty, ninty or one hundred years," and "two or five in the morning."
"thickness of your pulse and with my drive." I got rid of the comma because it wasn't supposed to be there.
"I saw, from the dozens of marks, that you lived." I added a comma to make it fit.
"There resided a scar for every bet that you wagered and lost." Got rid of the comma.
Otherwise, leave the rest alone. The emotion is there. Heck, I was crying while reading. Keep up the good work.
Agreed. Thank you so much.