Hold.

Hold on. Before I do anything else, or go on about some things I haven't talked about for over a week, I want to take a second to share some news I haven't wrapped my mind around. I haven't done so because so many things are up in the air that I'm tired of grabbing at them in wasted attempts at grounding. The last time I saw my friend Kevin was the day I moved out of my apartment in San Diego. Kevin, my neighbor and former fellow Muir College Orientation leader, spotted my roommate and I struggling with a cabinet that was obviously too big for two girls our size to be carrying. He saw us from about 100 feet away, and in Kevinly nature, stopped to laugh for a few seconds at how ridiculous we looked before rushing over to help us out. The three of us packed the cabinet into my Golf and walked back home. Kevin let us know if we needed anything else to come knock. Later that day, we said our goodbyes for the summer until September. Kevin scolded me jokingly for not being around even though I was only a few doors down. Now I'm kicking myself more than ever for being a sometimes absent friend. It was always my loss anyway. I received news earlier this week that Kev underwent emergency open heart surgery early this week and has yet to regain consciousness. From what I've been able to put together through text updates of those in the area, I'm not able to tell if this means he is comatose, although to be honest, I'm too afraid to ask and hear it be put that way. I've taken any good sign I can, be it swallowing movement, needing to be sedated for moving about unconsciously, or no visible brain damage in the latest test. I've avoided thinking about the bad, because I don't want it to exist. Each time I check his Facebook page, I scan for a sign of Kevin himself instead of countless friends sending virtual prayers, displays of love, and requests for the return of the Kevin they all know and love. I think I'm going to keep it this way. If keeping hope doesn't directly change anything, I know sure as hell losing hope only makes things worse. Wake up Kevin, I want to hear your voice again.