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06 August 2015 @ 08:00 pm
so much said in listening  
late last week one of my oldest and dearest friends ended his life.

i am and continue to be in a bad place. what i'm i doing and why am i doing it. where i'm going. with this, with that, with everything. why.

how i could have done things differently.

i don't mean late last week. i don't mean a couple weeks back or even a year ago. i mean back over time. i mean when we were kids, sitting next to each other in creative writing class, his head ducked and neck strained, right index finger twirling that tiny bald spot into his scalp. i mean one of those times i visited the summer after i graduated and we sat in his gray room, watching strange old movies, me considering making him an offer involving our mutual lack of positive sexual experiences and the otherwise empty house but not sure how to put that into words: but that was okay, our friendship had give like that. driving into the city with him in our twenties, his eternal joni mitchell on the tape deck. his instant snap to attention scent of slate and aussie shampoo. the particular signature of the intuitive flash i'd get when he rang my phone, even when i hadn't heard from him in years, even when i'd logically think, no way.

both of us writers, we authored poems to each other but never pointed that out directly: it was always on the slant. the way things go between two left handed children not made for this world. always a storyteller, stories he told twenty years ago emerge from me still. always a dancer, he never once made me feel clumsy, not once until sunday, when i got the call. now i seem to be stuck, clumsy, forever. now i am left stumbling, weeping and rearing up the corners over vulnerable surfaces. now i don't know just who i'll be, but who i ever really was.

last night watching stewart on hulu, ben turned to me and said, "holy shit, this is his last week, isn't it?" matter of fact, huh, that went fast. i stopped, blinked, and started to cry. that's the way it's been happening: i'll be somewhere else, thinking about something else and all of a sudden it strikes from behind like a steel-toed boot between the shoulder blades. why the fuck did stewart have to leave this week? i know he'd been planning it that way for months. i've had time to sort my feelings about it. as i was rationalizing, i remembered my friend's tendency for suicide timelines in prior attempts and the idea of planning it for months stuck in my throat. that made my crying worse. ben paused the show and sat holding me until i could breathe again.

i'd say that had nothing to do with stewart leaving, but that's not entirely true. it's just another loss in my intensifying vacuum of big-picture tradeoffs.
music: cicadas
[redacted]elsewhereangel on August 7th, 2015 12:24 am (UTC)
I'm thinking of you. And wishing I knew what to say or do. But at least know you are in my thoughts.
selva oscuraanonymousblack on August 8th, 2015 07:29 pm (UTC)
thank you.

the not knowing what to say or do is as ferocious an issue for me as it is for anyone. mostly what i really need right now is tangible evidence that there are still people out there who care and want me to stick around, which you've done (here and on a regular basis.) i appreciate you very much.
Nevarra: achenevarra on August 7th, 2015 01:59 am (UTC)
I came here once I saw fb. I'm not sure what to say and know that nothing I say is going to ease this for you right now but you I want you to know that I am here. I am thinking about you, sending love your way and ready and willing to support you in any way that I can. I just can't imagine what you're going through right now or how you are feeling. But if you want to process anything, send a scream to the ether (via my email address, phone, text, chat) or just chat about the weather...I'm here.
selva oscuraanonymousblack on August 8th, 2015 07:32 pm (UTC)
thank you, b. i might want to talk to you early next week. right now i'm preparing mentally for this huge and potentially brutal ancestors ritual tomorrow, on the 10th anniversary of my paternal grandmother's death. i'm calling ariadne, and i'm sure that's going to bring some stuff up. that entire story continues to be hot pokers for me.
Nevarranevarra on August 9th, 2015 05:38 pm (UTC)
I will be here for you if and when you'd like to talk. Sending love and energy and support your way for your ritual today. We are all here for you, wanting you to be here with us.
ghostelephantsghostelephants on August 7th, 2015 04:25 pm (UTC)
god, i am so sorry. it would have been my friend heather's birthday today, had she not killed herself almost exactly a year ago. if you need to talk/write, i am here: kbfallon at gmail dot com. you are beautiful.
selva oscuraanonymousblack on August 8th, 2015 07:46 pm (UTC)
i'm so sorry, i didn't know about your friend. i know we were in limbo connection-wise here, but you'd think i'd have seen something on FB except, oh wait, FB. you should feel free to do the same.

so much love, k. you are beautiful, too.
translucentflowerfalls on August 7th, 2015 09:10 pm (UTC)
sending you love from the aloha state
selva oscuraanonymousblack on August 8th, 2015 07:46 pm (UTC)
thank you, k.
(Anonymous) on August 8th, 2015 02:37 am (UTC)
That's a lot to carry and I wish you strength.

What a beautiful elegy
selva oscuraanonymousblack on August 8th, 2015 07:47 pm (UTC)
thank you. i wrote something significantly more angry, as well, but that's still making its path known.
Neo Maxi Zoom Dweebie: Red lightbetweenthebars on August 9th, 2015 01:09 pm (UTC)
I know what you mean, Judith, about things making strange pathways into our brains and past memories. Jingling them all roughly as they walk by. It's not uncommon for tiny things to have a larger impact to us.