Sometimes I wish things were different, and that you could go back in time. There's a point in everyone's life where they stop and think, "Should I have done this? Should I have said that?" Sometimes we all wonder that if at one moment, we just spoke up and told somebody something, not to be a rat, but to save a life, Pierce would still be here today. In a burrow outside of Pittsburgh, called Bethel Park, our high school has always been known as "Heroin High." This is because years back; we had so many deaths in our school from Heroin. In years to come, a lot of people had thought that we had somewhat gotten rid of the name. But we were all wrong. Pierce was a young, long blond haired, artistic 16 year old boy. You wouldn't ever see him without a guitar in his hands. His guitar was his everything. He was an amazing brother, a wonderful friend, and a good neighbor. He always thought about others. He loved to have fun; he was one of the funniest kids you could have ever encountered in your life. No matter what the subject it was, he would make up the dumbest thing just to make you laugh! Pierce was absolutely gorgeous and so nice! He was always there to talk to when you needed someone. If you were to log onto AIM at 3 in the morning on a school night, he'd be the only one on. There used to be a big group of us that would always hangout, but later on, Pierce would keep to himself and not talk to anyone. His other 'friends' started getting deeper and deeper into some drugs, and Pierce went for the ride. He jumped on that bandwagon. After a while, we all lost touch. I'd see him in school from time to time, smile, and move along. I never really knew what he was getting himself into, I just heard stories. His 'friends' that got him into these drugs would jump him, and leave him to think god knows what. And in the eyes of a teenager, watching their friend become more depressed and digging deeper into this hole he had created for himself was like standing at a top of a building watching someone jump to their death and not even having the guts to try and stop them from falling. Those who tried to help him got into huge fights with him and were pushed even farther away than the rest of us. The week before his death, he had been late on curfew. He was supposed to be in by 11 pm but arrived home around 1 a.m. His mom checked his breath for alcohol. She found nothing. He hadn't shown any signs of drugs abuse. A few days later, February 15, 2008, the day after Valentines Day, I was sitting in homeroom and I heard someone behind me talking about someone dying. I kept asking who, but no one answered me. I asked again, and a boy sitting behind me said to me, "It was this junior, Pierce Anderson." My heart dropped. I asked why, but when this kid was explaining it to me, my body froze, and I tuned him out. All I could think about was his face, and how much of a horrible person I felt like because I never got to say 'goodbye.' I made it through most of the day, but by 5th period, I walked into Building 3 to go to Algebra, and I passed his locker. That's where I broke down. I later found out that he had died from a Heroin mautfuntion. It was an air-bubble. The autopsy later explained that he had only done Heroin about twice in his whole life. A few days later, looking at him laying in his casket, I lost it. He was the first dead person I had ever touched. As a little girl I used to think that they would wake up, or grab my hand. His parents were so strong, and I give them such respect for it. I hate Heroin with every passion in my heart. It took away someone who didn't deserve to have his life cut so short. I won't ever touch Heroin. When I hear the word, my body tightens and quenches, and my face gets hot. To this day, I pass his locker every morning around 10:30. And sometimes, when I'm having a rough time and I go for a walk, I can hear his voice in the wind, and everything just gets better. Rest In Peace Sweetheart. You are dearly missed!