Death, whizzed right past me again, closer than ever.

It was just 24 hours ago, when I received that chilling SMS from my friend, succintly, yet ominously worded, "He's dead.". Yet, so much has happened in those 24 intervening hours, that it all seems so distant, so far away already, as if it all never happened, as if it were all part of a distant dream that we'll all wake up and walk away from one day.

But that is not to be.

It was just 24 hours ago, when I woke up, saw that chillingly unusual light streaming out of the neighbouring bunk, and walked in on a familiar face in an unfamiliarly contorted position, in a frighteningly unnatural manner, his face yellow as yellow can ever be, in a manner you'd never expect to see a human face, his eyes wide open, as if they were gouged out; it was terrifyingly unreal; I'd half-expected him to just snap out of it, wake up, and jokingly say it was all a prank, even if it wasn't like him to do that, but only because I didn't want it to be real.

It was all so frighteningly unreal, realising that someone would die if you didn't do anything, if you didn't do the right thing--someone's life, in your hands.

It was terrifying.

As I sat by the edge of my bed yesterday morning, phone in my hands, after reading that distant message, I tried to picture life ending at the age of 21, tried to picture not waking up the next day, and I just could not.

It was all so unreal, and it all still is so unreal.

Things were not supposed to have turned out this way. But it's all over and done with, one of our number gone, lost, to the winds.

I choked, as I walked by his ID tags, his camp pass, lying in the office yesterday, amidst all his other belongings. So, this is what happens when you die, when you leave everything behind.

I woke up this morning, half-expecting everything to repeat itself; as I looked at my alarm clock by my bed, hands ominously at the 5.32 mark, when everything had happened yesterday morning, I couldn't bring myself to move; it seemed almost sacrilegious; it seemed that if I moved, and walked out of my bunk, the same way I did every morning at the same time, everything would just replay, repeat itself, and all the horror would come back.

It's all so haunting.

I just hope he rests in peace.