(no subject)
I know I haven't written in awhile, and I guess I'm here now for advice even though it's a tad awkward (especially when I know you read this Alex : /) But I honestly realized I'm too emotionally cut off to deal with real things. I guess that is why it always feels flat when I write about it.
I missed Alex, you know I've reached the point where yes I realize our friendship will take work mostly by me, and I don't mind it really I think it's worth it and I love him as if he were my brother, more I think sometimes.
I know I've never really been there for Alex the way I should you know, everytime something would go wrong I'd nod, smile uncomfortably, and fidget waiting for something thoughtful and meaningful to come out of my mouth to make everything better.
I sent him a text, you know something cute and simple "Miss you" he immediately called back which probably should have been an indication fo something was wrong. He ALWAYS texts back and that's how our conversations always end up.
On September 6th, 2008 Robert Angelo Hoffman was killed. He was 24. And that is about as scary as it gets. I can't ...I don't want to imagine especially now that my brother and I have gotten so close. Then of course my mind continues on it's self-absorbed track to think what if it had been Alex? My Alex?
But there I am on the phone hearing about the wake, and feeling completely useless once again. What the fuck do I say besides hey I'm sorry I love you and you're welcome here anytime you need to get away. What good am I if I can't make my closest and oldest friend feel better? Shouldn't the words come natural to a writer that loves writing about death? Or maybe I write about it because I can't face it in real life.
I don't think I've ever wanted to hug somebody so much in my life...if I didn't have a test tomorrow and if he didn't have class early in the morning you can bet I would be driving out there tonight.
I feel so useless...
I missed Alex, you know I've reached the point where yes I realize our friendship will take work mostly by me, and I don't mind it really I think it's worth it and I love him as if he were my brother, more I think sometimes.
I know I've never really been there for Alex the way I should you know, everytime something would go wrong I'd nod, smile uncomfortably, and fidget waiting for something thoughtful and meaningful to come out of my mouth to make everything better.
I sent him a text, you know something cute and simple "Miss you" he immediately called back which probably should have been an indication fo something was wrong. He ALWAYS texts back and that's how our conversations always end up.
On September 6th, 2008 Robert Angelo Hoffman was killed. He was 24. And that is about as scary as it gets. I can't ...I don't want to imagine especially now that my brother and I have gotten so close. Then of course my mind continues on it's self-absorbed track to think what if it had been Alex? My Alex?
But there I am on the phone hearing about the wake, and feeling completely useless once again. What the fuck do I say besides hey I'm sorry I love you and you're welcome here anytime you need to get away. What good am I if I can't make my closest and oldest friend feel better? Shouldn't the words come natural to a writer that loves writing about death? Or maybe I write about it because I can't face it in real life.
I don't think I've ever wanted to hug somebody so much in my life...if I didn't have a test tomorrow and if he didn't have class early in the morning you can bet I would be driving out there tonight.
I feel so useless...