And I am he who would live it.
So where have I been the last couple months, eh? Where have I been?!
The short answer is away. The long answer is recovering.
It's been such a weird year for me. School was going really, really well and I was loving it. It started when my cousin, Tharuna, got married around the same time as my birthday. Actually, no... It started last year in October.
While I was up here I was dealing with the decision of moving to the States, to Nebraska, to manage a bar owned by a friend there. And then news came a week late, Rita had died of cancer. That night I celebrated her life and what an amazing person she was, even though I only knew her a short time.
Then I started school, forgetting the option of moving away for a while. Then came the wedding and a week away that made me realise in the quiet moments after the long days, while we all sat in silence swigging beers and Jack, that one of us was gone. Someone that was like a sister to me when I was growing up. It weighed heavily on me for a time.
And then Rhys came. And man, oh man, did he ever come with rolling thunder. He swooped in, swept me off my feet and then asked me to marry him. What's a boy to do, eh?
Soon after he left I got news of another death. Steph had passed away from a brain aneurysm while at work on a Tuesday afternoon. Friends and classmates were devastated, with just days to go before midyear exams. His father, in a clear showing of misunderstanding, sold all of his 'goth' stuff for a couple bucks. I spoke to Steven, Steph's best friend, for a while that night and a little after. He was destroyed, but he put on his strong face and shrugged at me.
I think that's where I broke. With Rhys gone and two friends down I was a little shaken, if not tumbling down already. Then came more bad news. I made contact with a highschool buddy, now located in the UK, who gave me news of two more deaths. Dylan Talbot, someone I met on the first day of highschool and someone I always showed concern for, had passed away due to a degenerative blood disease. He was a brave kid and we all knew it was inevitable. They told him he wouldn't live past 10, but he managed to pull through to 22. But we all knew it would happen eventually...
The last was a guy in the year below me, an acquaintance more than a friend, but part of the highschool pack nonetheless. Shot in the head in the AM on the beachfront in Durban.
Rita was 20. Steph was 23. Dylan was 22, as was Sheldon.
A short time after the final straw I snapped and disappeared to Durban for a while. I spent time with those I could, spoke with those I could bear to see. I walked down the beachfront where Sheldon was shot. I'm not sure why, but I was drawn to. I couldn't be there for Rita or Steph or Dylan. Nobody could or would tell me where they were buried. The town has changed. The people had changed too. Only one person willingly offered to talk to me about any of this and it hurt me.
I felt hurt, like somehow it was my fault for not being there when the shit was hitting the fan. I felt almost as if those people who were stilling alive resented me for leaving. Clinton at least tried, he was happy to see me. Steven tried too, but he was leaving the next morning for Sweden on a scholarship. Vee... Fell back into his drug habit and owed some people money. He was my best friend for a long time, but he couldn't look me in the eye when I spoke to him about it.
I'm trying to deal with work and school. I'm trying to deal with Michael ignoring me because he's too stubborn to realise that there's more going on than the car he drives or the clothes he wears. I'm trying to deal with being away from Rhys for so long... And the time we still have to apart, not to mention how on earth we're going to pull this relationship off and end up together. I'm trying to deal with my family, being as it is, broken and dusty on the top where you can't reach to clean.
The final note was my brother moving in with his girlfriend. Now, he and I are fundamentally different people. We prioritise differently and there's a 6 year age gap. There's probably a 60 year gap in differential maturity. My brother has made many mistakes in his lifetime that went unpunished. I find my my parents are satisfied that we're the same person enough to prohibit my actions where they have seen him fail. I'm not perfect, but I can safely say that I'm doing a lot more in my life than he is in his. I'm loathe to spill detail, but the girl cheated on him, he left her in Durban and now he's recovering from his own wounds. Interacting with my family has always been strained. I don't know if I'm better than them, I won't say I am, but I will say that I'm not like them. And in ways I can't breach with them. But, they're my family, I'm stuck with them and there's no point in arguing.
Most emo kids whine about they have no friends, how nobody ever calls, how nobody understands them. This is not a dopamine induced plea for help. It's an honest, heart-felt and still objective observation of my life. My days are lonely. I never get invited anywhere. Nobody here has asked me why I've been away for so long. No concern has been shown to -me- for my well-being with the exception of a very understanding headmaster who has allowed me time to catch up at school.
I can safely say that I could go through an entire day here without utter a word, or even a syllable. And I don't mind. Why talk when you can sing?
If you're going to ask how I'm doing, don't bother. I'm fine :)
The short answer is away. The long answer is recovering.
It's been such a weird year for me. School was going really, really well and I was loving it. It started when my cousin, Tharuna, got married around the same time as my birthday. Actually, no... It started last year in October.
While I was up here I was dealing with the decision of moving to the States, to Nebraska, to manage a bar owned by a friend there. And then news came a week late, Rita had died of cancer. That night I celebrated her life and what an amazing person she was, even though I only knew her a short time.
Then I started school, forgetting the option of moving away for a while. Then came the wedding and a week away that made me realise in the quiet moments after the long days, while we all sat in silence swigging beers and Jack, that one of us was gone. Someone that was like a sister to me when I was growing up. It weighed heavily on me for a time.
And then Rhys came. And man, oh man, did he ever come with rolling thunder. He swooped in, swept me off my feet and then asked me to marry him. What's a boy to do, eh?
Soon after he left I got news of another death. Steph had passed away from a brain aneurysm while at work on a Tuesday afternoon. Friends and classmates were devastated, with just days to go before midyear exams. His father, in a clear showing of misunderstanding, sold all of his 'goth' stuff for a couple bucks. I spoke to Steven, Steph's best friend, for a while that night and a little after. He was destroyed, but he put on his strong face and shrugged at me.
I think that's where I broke. With Rhys gone and two friends down I was a little shaken, if not tumbling down already. Then came more bad news. I made contact with a highschool buddy, now located in the UK, who gave me news of two more deaths. Dylan Talbot, someone I met on the first day of highschool and someone I always showed concern for, had passed away due to a degenerative blood disease. He was a brave kid and we all knew it was inevitable. They told him he wouldn't live past 10, but he managed to pull through to 22. But we all knew it would happen eventually...
The last was a guy in the year below me, an acquaintance more than a friend, but part of the highschool pack nonetheless. Shot in the head in the AM on the beachfront in Durban.
Rita was 20. Steph was 23. Dylan was 22, as was Sheldon.
A short time after the final straw I snapped and disappeared to Durban for a while. I spent time with those I could, spoke with those I could bear to see. I walked down the beachfront where Sheldon was shot. I'm not sure why, but I was drawn to. I couldn't be there for Rita or Steph or Dylan. Nobody could or would tell me where they were buried. The town has changed. The people had changed too. Only one person willingly offered to talk to me about any of this and it hurt me.
I felt hurt, like somehow it was my fault for not being there when the shit was hitting the fan. I felt almost as if those people who were stilling alive resented me for leaving. Clinton at least tried, he was happy to see me. Steven tried too, but he was leaving the next morning for Sweden on a scholarship. Vee... Fell back into his drug habit and owed some people money. He was my best friend for a long time, but he couldn't look me in the eye when I spoke to him about it.
I'm trying to deal with work and school. I'm trying to deal with Michael ignoring me because he's too stubborn to realise that there's more going on than the car he drives or the clothes he wears. I'm trying to deal with being away from Rhys for so long... And the time we still have to apart, not to mention how on earth we're going to pull this relationship off and end up together. I'm trying to deal with my family, being as it is, broken and dusty on the top where you can't reach to clean.
The final note was my brother moving in with his girlfriend. Now, he and I are fundamentally different people. We prioritise differently and there's a 6 year age gap. There's probably a 60 year gap in differential maturity. My brother has made many mistakes in his lifetime that went unpunished. I find my my parents are satisfied that we're the same person enough to prohibit my actions where they have seen him fail. I'm not perfect, but I can safely say that I'm doing a lot more in my life than he is in his. I'm loathe to spill detail, but the girl cheated on him, he left her in Durban and now he's recovering from his own wounds. Interacting with my family has always been strained. I don't know if I'm better than them, I won't say I am, but I will say that I'm not like them. And in ways I can't breach with them. But, they're my family, I'm stuck with them and there's no point in arguing.
Most emo kids whine about they have no friends, how nobody ever calls, how nobody understands them. This is not a dopamine induced plea for help. It's an honest, heart-felt and still objective observation of my life. My days are lonely. I never get invited anywhere. Nobody here has asked me why I've been away for so long. No concern has been shown to -me- for my well-being with the exception of a very understanding headmaster who has allowed me time to catch up at school.
I can safely say that I could go through an entire day here without utter a word, or even a syllable. And I don't mind. Why talk when you can sing?
If you're going to ask how I'm doing, don't bother. I'm fine :)