So much I should be doing.
Well, pretty only one major thing. and that is sleeping.
But like you, like me I'm not.

I'm just reading old emails from a person who will never send them again.
and it hits me new, every day.

that I'm alone without you.

I felt it, like the gun shot wound in me instead
but instead of death

it brought your absence.

pictures hit the hardest.

now I'm floored
asking
"really?"

I sit and wait for you.
I remember the talks, the food fights, the break downs in which I never took you seriously. The accidental alcohol and the survival that we did.

You, so confident, so you.

I felt underserving of your coolness, of your friendship. But I loved every moment.
You may have mocked, but I never felt like you truly cared about my red beret and just said to take it off for forms sake,

after all, we were only 12 or so.

Shows, and 4 hour laughter fits. Wal mart on roller skates.

Through our entire lives, I felt blessed to be your friend. And I never wanted to put you into a box to be close to you. No labels, just true, honest, just being who we were


I have never thought any girl was good enough for you.



We had to grow up sometime, but I'm no good at growing any way but wider.
And I'm not going to force you or pressure you to take my calls, or talk to me. I haven't done anything wrong that I know of so our non-communication is more of a i'm-busy-youre-busy type of thing.

Late at night I miss your voice.

This is just a note, dropping a line, wrote late at night with burning cigarette, to let you know that I'm waiting always to hear your voice. Some people claim that boys and girls can't be friends because there is that base ****** attraction.

I think they are wrong but then again, you're not a boy and I'm not a girl.

These things I pray for you,
happiness
joy
a passion that leaves your breathless
a purpose
resolution
and love

That one day,
that was the day I finally realized that I wasn't important.

not to you.

Everyone was laughing, excited. Recording your first demo, that was neat and new and we were 16 and thrilled.

I stood back (like I always seemed to)
and you noticed.
You said, "sing along with us on this one. We want everyone to be involved."

But I didn't know the words.
Because, you hadn't shared them with me.

so I left, because I realized I was only important when I was bringing down the vibe.

and I flashed back to that phone call,
when you nonchalantly mentioned we were best friends
and my world brightened for years because of it.

just that suddenly,
the light went out.

I stood there: laughing/crying
being
strong
for every one else.

what could my tears accomplish

comfort would not heal
what was
broken. what was lost.

I can be Strong. When EverY One is LooKing.

And then in the pictures, I saw the future.

The rewrites.  or "unwrites" writing me out of her past. blame and anger. of course you know, it was all my fault.

And I don't need comforting. from you. from anyone. All i need is a little acknowledgement from the people who loved her most.

that said, "hey, I loved her too. I know what you must be feeling."

Because even though I don't have that last memory, I have a million others.
i am privy to your secrets, her secrets.

and despite what you believe, you are not alone.

you may choose to be .

But this is me standing up and saying I LOVED HER TOO. ALMOST AS MUCH AS YOU IF NOT AS MUCH. I have lost too bro.

and I am broken
and feel alone.
and can't make sense of sunlight, water, or peace.

a cautionary tale. not a legend.

I proposed the theory to you once that after a certain point we are the ones that lead ourselves down that dark path. Seeking out numbing blackness because we know that it's "safe".

I don't know whether or not you believed me.

But let me reiterate it again, for myself.
'cause I really need it right now.


The first time you find yourself in the dark void, you hate it. It hurts so bad. You just want to escape. You don't speak the language and nobody seems to be able to help you or understand because you can't articulate what is wrong.  

But bulimics, anorexics, and self mutilators know that you can get use to anything. They've learned that pain is subjective. You see, repeated exposure to painful and dark things breed familiarity and comfort. And even, briefly, a deep dark happiness. A childish sticking of the tongue at the world, a ******* and a ******* to all those that hurt you. "Ha ha" you say. "Do your worst. You can't hurt me as much as I do."

For me, submerging my soul into the darkness eventually became a soothing balm. Protection from the loss of happiness, disappointment, people letting me down, friends not answering their phones, husbands being jerks, not liking myself, not liking anyone around me. Happy and joy was too big a risk. Being hurt, hurt too bad. And I would pretend to pray, I say pretend because I didn't really want help. I wanted to wallow. I wanted justification for why it was ok for me to be there. I wanted to be able to say, "this is just who I am."

I am not minimizing pain, or the people who feel it. There are a million reasons for depression and sadness. And we even need some sadness. Grief, I'm told, is a necessary part to loss although I can't fathom why right now. Why must we feel pain? Why do we have to keep on experience wrenching and heart breaking loss day after day after the day when it happened. Why I can't I c'est la ******* vie and move on?

I think because the fear of loss of people, happiness, whatever it is we are afraid of losing, is debilitating if we don't face it. If we don't throw open the cage door to the tiger(figuratively), we'll never find out that it's the fear that keeping us (me) from experiencing life. Because life is pain, just as much as it is joy. And by trying to keep pain away we end up keeping the good **** too. And looking back, all the previous pain opened doors to helping others and helping myself. Perspective man, that one day there will be sun again. There will be light hear-ted moments not over shadowed by loss. And by acknowledging it's there, we can take back the power. Because letting people hurt us is often times our fault more than theirs. And when I stop focusing on myself I can see the hurt that my "aggressor" is feeling. We are the total sum of our experiences. And we have switches, and sometimes they get flipped.

I told you about my life changing moment. The last time I sat on my porch sobbing and asking God why. The moment my prayer changed to empowerment. The moment when I asked for help.

" God, never let me go there again.'

It's a muscle. We can't control what we feel. Sometimes we ARE sad. Sometimes we ARE hurt. Sometimes we ARE reeling from inexplicable pain and loss. And it's ok. It's ok to be sad, hurt, lonely, as long as we realize it's a temporary place, not a residence.

I told you,

I had to learn to run away from the dark well of perpetual sorrow. I had to learn the bad wasn't forever, and the good was only as far away as I let it be. Like a dream catcher in reverse. I had to let all of it hit me. The good, bad, ugly, sorrow, joy, and sunlight. I had to adsorb it all, and then release the bad, negative **** that I let consume me before and enjoy the good ****, knowing I will always find more. I've got to exercise that muscle, and find relief.  


And now more than ever,
today
tonight

I need to know there is the possibility that I will be me again, and have life again.

I need to know that your absence,
is not the end.

I've watched you struggle and I know not what demons you've been fighting against. and know only seems to matter after you've won or lost.

Jacob didn't know who he was wrestling with at first, he only knew he mustn't give up.
just like you.
don't give up.
The problem with the past and with secrets is that until we confront the truth and deal with it. and win against it, and banish the lies, we will always be hurt by it.

So here's the truth.

Growing up was hard, even hell. It's a miracle that anyone survived. There was egregious wrong, even evil and too few moments of joy or happiness.  You had the first hand experience of it. I had the knowledge of it after. And to survive it, compromises were made: HAD to be made. Embracing the truth and letting it be known was too dangerous and difficult for children. So every one kept quiet. And then as children got older the instinctive habit stayed.

I marveled that you all didn't go mad. But I think you guys did, in your own way. Isn't repeating the same actions and expecting different results the definition of crazy?

If I have learned anything it's that desire alone to not become something does not prevent it from happening. I am my parents and their relationship every day until I mold healthy and better habits. I am the victim, the aggressor, the *****, and the bully.

Until I stop putting myself first.Being the one who does wrong or is wrong makes me into a monster.

And a victim is a helpless wronged one. Lets be honest, we're not helpless. We're not victims. We do this to ourselves.

I haven't been on speaking terms w/God even bore she died. I think the moment of greatest disconnect was when she claimed his as the reason for her destructive behavior. I knew God was not in this . But I still stepped away. Months later, when she was taken from me, I didn't blame God. part of me knows that this is going to be made into something good. And I know, that for this to happen means that he had to allow it.

But for me to admit that means that I have to admit she is gone. It means I have to embrace a world w/o her and embrace a God, who knew it would be this way. And I just can't let her go yet.

And I know that sound .crazy.

She's............. .

But I'm not ready for her to be gone. This is NOT my timing. And morever, since the diagnoses and break down, I have been waiting and hoping for the day that she would come back.

'Cause I lost her before I lost her to a sickness of the mind. And I just want her back. And now all I have her in is memories.

Now, I'm terrified that I'm going to lose You. But here's the thing. You are stronger than she was. She was sick, and unable to pull herself up.

You and I both knew that this was not her, that she would have never done this, not this way

and not to you.

She didn't **** herself to end the pain of the past. She killed herself to end the pain of the future.

She lost all hope.

And she caused us to lose hope.
But to not grab it back, would be worse than what she did.

We are stronger than our weakest moment.

And you are stronger than this.

This is the house.
Ruled by hostility
that still believes in slaves.

This is the house,
walls held up by arrogance and
false bravado,
lorded over by a tyrant with
ammunition:
bullets and berating.

This is the house,
cloudy day and night
despair billowing
from the dragon king.

This is the house
that would drive a saint to drink.
that drove a girl to cut.
that will driving the sanity from it's offspring
from walls held up with hate alone

This is the house that * built.

She is terrified by commitment/scared of turning out like parents+husband&wives;/like we often do/scared of losing her independence/scared of a time when she won't have him around anymore/scared of symbolizing her love by way of marriage b-c what if he wakes up one day and doesn't love her/then she might realize that she's not worth it/ a big fool revealed in the eyes of the girl in the mirror./

                   BUT DESPITE THE LOOMING LIKELY POSSIBILITY

she can't live without risking that making that possible mistake/ToTrust/ToFeel/to possibly be made a fool of for the sake of love.

Sometimes I start to feel....


normal? again.

                                                                          And I begin to think of re(emergence).

But its a mask, a good fake.
a skill I'm not capable of

___________(feeling)____­_______

Fearing one day I will,
wake up too late.

                                     To change.
                                     To live.
                                     To be.

(suchas)

But I'm afraid that my vulnerable heart encasing itself so deftly has served as a prison and my capability to feel has dried and flaked away.

Deeper down the well.
struggling out of habit,
(nothing more)
It's dark, almost totally devoid of light
solid. secure
I can always return here
There is always room for one
always Space.
I know. I've been her before
But some how
I'm closer to staying

forever.

not easier.

just
  
                                        here.

I'm not ok.
That day I lost hope, joy di vive.
So although everyone has been perfectly lovely and supportive (my real friends)
Giving me the whole world,
Doesn't give me back what I really want.

not that it really should.

But I wish,

that this odd thing called grief was over with.

that there was joy in the sunset, in the tide, in the smiles, n the hugs.

that I could stop feeling numb when people cry,
and finally cry myself.
I'll survive.

But I'm not OK.