Don’t leave me.
I love my friends. Every single one of them. I love my online friends for sick and twisted links they send me. I love my blogger friends for the e-mails I get encouraging or questioning or suggesting. I just feel like hell. MG was a such a great kid, and that’s the part that kills me. I know it’s fucked up, but I always imagined suicide as something for those kids who didn’t make many friends. Mike wasn’t one of those kids. He was weird, but cool. He volunteered for a number of gay organizations. When we had that last big snow storm, he walked the Brooklyn bridge with another friend of mine. He was funny, he was cute (totally vanilla, and he rejected me). I took him to his first gay bar, he was my roommate for orientation (we picked eachother). On his birthday I got him a bottle opener with a hundred dollar bill pressed on it. I should have done more. Maybe if he had a big party to remember he would have been happier. I want to envision foul play. Like he was sitting by that window and some mysterious third person pushed him. Or maybe that he was a spy. Killed in the line of duty. Not that it really matters. He’s gone, and I miss him. I called his cell phone 3 times today. Once when I first heard about it. I really thought he had picked up when his message started… the other times were just to be sure. It’s like this bad dream, this really bad dream. So today was cry day, I haven’t started yet, I can’t. I was going to drive out to Pennsylvania, to drop some friends off at their parents, but they decided to take the bus. Which is probably a good thing, since I don’t think I would have stopped driving. I’ve been wanting to call all my friends and tell them how shitty I feel, but each time I try, I just wind up telling them how much I care about them I almost didn’t tell my Sirs about it. I almost didn’t ask to see them, I almost didn’t go when they said I could come up. I hate saying it aloud. But let me describe my day: Last night I got an IM from mike, he wanted to hang, but I was at home. He told me to enjoy it, and said goodbye. I didn’t think much of it, so I logged off and went to bed. I got back to the dorms at about 9:40 this morning. I had my interview with the Aids hospice at 11:00 so I was heading to the shower when a doormate caught me. “where you hear last night?” “no, why?” “then you don’t know?” “know what?” “some guy killed himself last night…13 floor” “what?!” “yeah…Mike something” “Mike ______!?!” “sounds right” but he was wrong, it didn’t sound right. It still sounds wrong, mike shouldn’t be dead. I proceed to find myself punching the wall hoping to leave a dent. I went down to Pam’s room (she first found it all). Details are hazy, they wondered where I was, I try not to scream about them not calling me. They thought I was in the dorms…and I can’t really blame them. We lay on Pam’s bed for a bit. She sobs on my shoulder. It’s funny you would think a person would stop crying after a night, that it wouldn’t be possible to go that long. She tells me she keeps expecting to just start crying blood, like the well inside her would run dry. I’m angry. It feels like a teen drama. I want to harm something. Mostly myself. But there we sit. Huddled together, Pam and the rest want to get out of the dorms, I tell them I have a car. We make plans to pack and go. It takes about an hour, we meet up and sit down in the caf, all eyes are on them. Most of the school knows who his friends are, they saw the police question them. As we eat, they talk about getting away. Debrah is quiting school. Pam is thinking about it. Its not even an option for me. We all talk about who knew what,…”did he say something to you?” “did he want to?” “I thought he was happy” Pam decided to take the bus, it would have taken 2 more hours to get my car and she needs to be with family. I walk her and Glenda (mike called he Glenda bean, he was cool like that) to the train, we are all sticking together with someone. No one wants to see this happen again. Sigh… I call Daddybear, and he tells me to come to boston after I visit a school counselor. I sit in her office with Debbie, she goes in, I take the other open office. Mine tells me how NORMAL my feelings are. Tells me how a lot of kids feel angry, how its important to talk about it. How it’s OKAY. Funny, my friends dead, his body broken in some morgue, and I’ve been in a couple morgues, there is nothing NORMAL or OKAY about this. She doesn’t blink. I ask her about what happened. I figure that might have pieced it together. Mike left his room at about 1:21 am, after IMing all his friends to tell them he loves them. He went up to the 17th floor, and after drinking a two beers (not a lot for mike). He dropped his body off the roof. If I was in the dorms would I have been there to stop him? Would we have hung out? “you shouldn’t think like that” fuck you. I will think how I want to think. I want to think that I could have stopped it. That people can’t walk out of my life without me stopping them. But how many lives have I walked out of? I ask if there is anything else she wants me to know. She hands me pamphlets, and tells me to look out to see if any of my friends might attempt it. I get a little scared there. I’m terrified of it. I don’t want to feel this way again. EVER. I hang out with Debbie, her therapy was not much better. Still, I feel a little better, but not like it took the pain away, not that I expected it to. The worst was calling his mom. She was sobbing. I told her who I was,…”you don’t know, my name is joey, I am..er was a friend of your son’s “ She knew who I was, mike talked about me. “did you know? Wasn’t he happy?” I didn’t know, I thought he was, Wasn’t he? I want to sob, to tell her she’s a good mom… I couldn’t. I couldn’t I can’t I want to So I am up in boston now. Visiting Sirs. ..they won’t beat me. I want them to beat me. I want to sleep for days, I want to just pass out, not feel sad, I to bleed it all out. Shower it off. But I don’t want to forget him. Just forget this hurt, “so in the end it’s not just you, with your memories and your scars” i’m feeling better today though, just not good. I wish it was raining. Or snowing but it appears to be sunny. I miss you. you hurt me
- posted by G @ 11:48 AM