Tuesday, July 26, 2005

Let's just post something from months ago.

Jed knew a guy in camp who was killed in a one car accident and still tells the story as if he never had before. Bonnie lost a friend in ninth grade and still thinks of her sometimes. Laurie still casually throws into conversation mention of how she couldn't stop crying thinking about her father, who died of cancer while we were in 11th grade. Elyse had a friend die that same year and it took her (to the best of my knowledge) at least two years to properly come to terms with that. Nobody deals with death particularly well. So why do I feel like such a fuck-up for still being messed up eight months afterwards? Is it how it seems impossible to believe it was that long ago; that in some alternate world it was just yesterday or even tomorrow and that if I dialed the right numbers I could talk to her again? How it still feels like part of me's in shock, like back in Las Vegas when I saw an old man brutally assaulted and couldn't remember my thoughts, just the sounds and vision? My brother's voice is like a cliched broken record, repeating his two words over and over and over in that voice barely restraining tears and so on. The rest of everything is very isolated. Then again, I guess so is that. All of a sudden, but only for a moment, you see where these people who believe in John Edwards and crap like that are coming from. They're desperate and lonely with a kind of loneliness that'll never be resolved because the one person they want to talk to again is gone forever and they're scared. And gullible, of course, but sometimes it's easier to come to terms with being gullible than it is to there being no chance at saying goodbye or i'm sorry or whatever else you'd say. Someone told me in the couple weeks afterward that situations like this really make you find out who you really are. That's bullshit and if i believed it I'd be much more upset than I already am. I'm a 20 year old; my place is drinking far too much and staying out with my friends and screwing beautiful young women but I don't know how long until it'll all be possible again in any thing but lip service and the good graces of friends who're smart enough to act like I'm the same person I was beforehand. This was not natural or blameless. We can't tell ourselves it was "time" or that she lived a full life or any bullshit like that. She was an unhappy person who generally made us all unhappy but that doesn't make it all okay either. So I blame myself and I blame my family and I blame her friends but most of the blame falls squarely on those shoulders which are currently being whittled out of existence by mold and god knows what else. So if she's not here where can it go? I know it's not other peoples' faults for living their lives; it's not anything happened to them anyway and I don't wish feeling like this on them by any means. The best you can do is hope you're left with more than your two best friends and a lot of alcohol when it stops being so relevant.
I was going to continue in this vein, but instead, to celebrate my first non-(this)death thought in a long time tonight and because I can feel the self-pity becoming more prominent than the "real" emotions and fuck that. I was wondering for a minute up there why dead bodies have to smell so awful and then it occured to me that dead people carry ridiculous amounts of disease so of course it's advantageous to want them far away from you. Mm, selection.


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