I died on April 6, 2017 at 7:30 a.m. I was a victim of a distracted driver. I died upon impact.

I left behind my family, my friends, and the Eagle Nation Newspaper that I have had the honor of running for the past two years. The newspaper was my “baby”; my pride and joy. My staff called me the “Comma Nazi” because I was constantly correcting their grammar. I loved it and I loved them.

I had plans: Prom, graduation, playing golf at UT Tyler.

It’s all gone. There were no goodbyes or second chances. No time to tell my family and friends how much they meant to me. No time. My future doesn’t exist anymore.

On this day, all the material things I chased and guarded will be left in the hands of others to cherish or throw away.

The harsh words of critics that so haunted me will cease to sting or capture my attention anymore. They will be unable to touch me.

My nagging regrets are all put in the past, where they should have been anyway.

The small and large anxieties that had robbed my sleep each night no longer have any power.

On the day I died, the people that truly knew me and loved me grieved deeply.

They feel cheated. They feel a void. They feel as though a part of them died too. And on that day, more than anything in the world they wanted more time with me.

So knowing this, while I am still alive I will try to remember that my time with them is fleeting and very precious — and I will do my best not to waste a second of it.

Don’t let your life be stolen every day by all that you believe that matters, because on the day you die, much of it simply won’t.

You and I will die one day. Before that day comes: let us live.

Don’t text and drive. Put it down. Save a life.