So here is this strange story I feel like sharing, cause, I don't know.

So one day recently my mom asks me, "do you remember a guy named Ryder Buck?"

"Yeah, why?"

"He got hit on the 2 freeway after his car broke down on the street"

The hell right? I told my mom how I hadn't seen that guy since highschool, but that was a lie. In highschool Ryder was on the water polo team a tier above me, so we saw each other just about everyday for those first few years of high school. I've always sucked at sports, but especially so while in high school during the time when everyone had hit and grown from puberty well before me. I took a lot of flack for it while I played with them, was probably the worst on the entire team. I couldn't do anything about it except to try and not fall behind everyone else even more that I already was. Almost everyone, save for my one friend on the team, was pretty shitty to me, just as high school kids always are in general. Ryder was among them, though he wasn't a major player and was only following what everyone else was doing; not that it excuses anything, but I understand why he did it too. Once I had enough years playing that sport to cover my PE credit score, I jumped ship and at the same time got as far away from everyone on the team as possible.

It wasn't until after Ryder's death that I learned about his fight against cancer. Chemotherapy and all, he battled this shit for I don't know how long, all the while he pursued music. Formed a band and played on small stages, used his father's connections and got attention from some pretty big music artists. And he survived, he was rid of all his cancer and was going to live. He got to meet some of his heroes in the music industry and started recording his music in studio and everything.

Then one night, two of his tires blow out on the freeway. He drives down the off-ramp and pulls over on the street. Next thing we know, he's walking towards the freeway divider in the center, through fog. He gets hit by one car, thrown over the windshield, and hit by another car.

The cops come to the report, clean up the mess and find his car. In his car, Ryder's phone was lodged in the seat cushion where it's presumed he couldn't find it. And that is just about all we know.

Now sit here for a second and think about this shit. His parents pumped loads of money into this guy, just as any parent in this situation would. And they're pretty well to freakin do, I mean, his dad co directed Disney's Frozen for god's sake, so it's safe to assume between the music and the cancer, they pumped in more money that any of us will ever likely to see. His dreams were being realized, he was meeting all sorts of famous people in the music people, got a gig to open for his favorite band (which he died before doing), and had fucking survived cancer.

And walks onto the goddamn freeway.

For all you that don't know what a Californian freeway looks like or how wide it is, here is a pic.

The last time I saw Ryder Buck, I had been working cashier at a Panera Bread and he walked up to order just about as reluctantly as I was to greet him.

I hate seeing people from high school at work, not only because most of them were asses, but just because I can feel the same judgement they passed way back then again when they see me working in a low paying job like this one. Where I live, a majority of the kids are rich, that means not working a day of their lives until after college. Not that there is anything wrong with that, if you have that advantage fucking take it and run with it, I'd do the same; just don't judge the guy who is going through college slower because he's working to pay food, gas, and/or rent.

So he said hi to me, and I said hi back. He made his order, and I took his order. Then at that awkward moment when the cashier is counting the customer's change, he says to me "Hey Garrett, sorry about all the shit that happened in high school."

I looked up at him unsure if I heard what he said. I didn't feel any emotion, numbness describes it best; for a moment I was back at high school figuring out the angle, how this could be a trick. The next moment I was saying, "It's okay."

Not the most convincing response, so I shrug, hand his money, and say, "it was high school, that's just the way it was."

"Yeah," was all he could say before walking away.

I didn't see him leave the store.

(Source)