Jade's dead

I've woken up as usual, fumbling around for my phone to check about Jade. I guess that will be the last time because Jade has stopped living. Rather then keep looking for euphemisms, Jade has died. And it makes me sad. I never knew Jade. At the very least she irritated me for being so loud, so crude and so academically stupid. And yet, at the best of times, so shrewd. But the minute I knew her life would be over, I just got obsesses. An exact month of obsession. And I kept scouring the Internet hoping Jade would rally on and praying that by some miracle she would pull through. Sadly, she hasn't. And I wonder now how it is for her kids. Just wee kids who have lost their mummy. All along this obsessive month, I have read her biography and can recount it in harrowing precision. Poor Jade. She really didn't have much of a childhood. It's the fairytale of a girl who went from rags to riches, only for it to be cut short by cancer. It could be opera. But it's real all right. I will never know what it's like to have parents who are constantly high on dope. Jade did. She's done her part, and now she's at peace. And I'm grieving. And in mourning. And I never even met the girl.