(no subject)
om asatoma sadgamaya
tamasoma jyoti gamaya
myrityoma amritam gamaya.
my dear friend mikael died last week. & i still don't know what to think about it. in my mind's movies ive sometimes wondered when some one i loved would die. who it would be. how it would feel. because it's inevitable that some one, some people, i love will die. right? & then mikael is gone. & it feels disgusting. i dont know how else to describe it. there arent the right words to explain the dialogue between my heart, my mind, and my body in the past 10 days. there are so many stages of thought that go in to grieving and im finding it increasingly difficult. he was hit by a fucking train. im mad. im fucking fucking fucking pissed off. im never going to hear him laugh again, because he doesnt anymore. i keep on seeing trains, noticing them more often i suppose. the word train stands out from magazine's, newspapers, anywhere it can find me really, as if the word was struck by a bright yellow highlighter. these things didn't mean this much 10 days ago, the only time trains mattered were when they stopped me from getting somewhere on time. a train killed my friend. or he killed himself with a train. neither phrase sounds right, it feels somewhere in the middle of the two. he oozed passion, man. he painted, he made things pretty...even when it was in a really ugly way. he was the same way with us, with how he led his life. he looked at things from such a different angle that it sometimes scared me. after just a week of knowing him not only did i want to know everything about him & spend all of my time with him, but i knew that someday i wanted to write about him. he was a man born to be made in to a character. i just cant do him justice. our connection was somewhat of a magical thing too...& everyone saw that. he loved me after one night, maybe two. it didnt take me that long. god, i loved him. he was beautiful. i knew our love was a tragically flawed one, but i couldnt help being drawn to him. the night we kissed for the second or third time was when we gave up, it was silly. our love couldnt be that love. i mean, he liked boys a little too much & i liked him a little too much. but that's how intense we were with each other. we had to explore that even though i think we both knew how ridiculous it was. and still it hurt like hell to give that up. god damn that hurricane. he was out of hartford, for the first time in his life, and he was happy in new orleans. & then a horrible thing happens in the lives of everyone who lived there, which in turn forced mikael back to a miserable place he felt trapped in & now he is dead. im coping in strange ways. or maybe im not. i worry that im grieving in an unhealthy manner, which makes me worry, which makes me wonder if i overanalyze everything in my life to this extent, which makes me feel guilty for thinking im overanalyzing something that is indeed worth the amount of analyzation im in fact giving it, if not more. see how crazy i am??? why can't i just be devastated & accept that, be comfortable with it? truth is i missed him long before he was actually gone gone. i only had a solid year. & then he had to get out of our world for a little while. & then back in a little. & then new orleans. & then back a little. & then that last night. the last time i saw him was the first time, in a year of living there, he had seen my aparatment. that gives a good example of the time i spent at josh, alex, & mikael's those 6 months of them living together & then how little i saw him after he took off. he was drunk and happened to call josh while we were all at my place, and he stumbled down farm ave to us. everytime i saw him after that first year it was always like yes. mikael. happiness. cant help but be happy. he's okay, he's alive. i still have him. & we all kind of, somewhere knew we wouldnt have him for long. that was mikael. but i prayed it wouldnt be in this way. that last night i considered telling him to spend the night, to make it like old times...my favorite times in hartford...just to have a night with him. but i didnt. he went home with josh & sarah...or at least left at the same time...i miss his smell. he smelled like some cologne & some cheap vodka most of the time. but the mixture of those smells & his smell combined so sweetly, like nothing else in the world. he constantly got mad at me for asking him for things or using please & thank you, he expected me to just take whatever it was from him, but excused it occasionally due in part to my southern roots. he played with my hair like my mother does. we stared at each other a lot, perfectly comfortable with the silence, & tuned in as well as i can with melissa. ive always been able to honestly say he was one of kind. something to cherish. i hope he really knew. i know he really knew. at least he knew i loved him, & that's all i have control of. i dont want to believe any of this is real...it's way too fucking soon. & i cant be there & it's killing me. i just want to sit in josh & sarah's living room and laugh at each mikaelism & story...i want to tell about the time we all slept in the empty house on whitney, balancing on the precipice of an era, freezing our asses off & sending josh to the store to get first aide equip for mikael after he fell under my car face first...i want to get drunk with them & cry & lay on each other & talk to him together...but i cant. i miss everyone a lot. all of this is breaking glass. all of this is stabbing pain. all of this is the worst turn in events ever.
and this doesnt help like i thought it maybe sorta could of.
from delusion lead me to truth
from darkness lead me to light
from death lead me to eternal life.
tamasoma jyoti gamaya
myrityoma amritam gamaya.
my dear friend mikael died last week. & i still don't know what to think about it. in my mind's movies ive sometimes wondered when some one i loved would die. who it would be. how it would feel. because it's inevitable that some one, some people, i love will die. right? & then mikael is gone. & it feels disgusting. i dont know how else to describe it. there arent the right words to explain the dialogue between my heart, my mind, and my body in the past 10 days. there are so many stages of thought that go in to grieving and im finding it increasingly difficult. he was hit by a fucking train. im mad. im fucking fucking fucking pissed off. im never going to hear him laugh again, because he doesnt anymore. i keep on seeing trains, noticing them more often i suppose. the word train stands out from magazine's, newspapers, anywhere it can find me really, as if the word was struck by a bright yellow highlighter. these things didn't mean this much 10 days ago, the only time trains mattered were when they stopped me from getting somewhere on time. a train killed my friend. or he killed himself with a train. neither phrase sounds right, it feels somewhere in the middle of the two. he oozed passion, man. he painted, he made things pretty...even when it was in a really ugly way. he was the same way with us, with how he led his life. he looked at things from such a different angle that it sometimes scared me. after just a week of knowing him not only did i want to know everything about him & spend all of my time with him, but i knew that someday i wanted to write about him. he was a man born to be made in to a character. i just cant do him justice. our connection was somewhat of a magical thing too...& everyone saw that. he loved me after one night, maybe two. it didnt take me that long. god, i loved him. he was beautiful. i knew our love was a tragically flawed one, but i couldnt help being drawn to him. the night we kissed for the second or third time was when we gave up, it was silly. our love couldnt be that love. i mean, he liked boys a little too much & i liked him a little too much. but that's how intense we were with each other. we had to explore that even though i think we both knew how ridiculous it was. and still it hurt like hell to give that up. god damn that hurricane. he was out of hartford, for the first time in his life, and he was happy in new orleans. & then a horrible thing happens in the lives of everyone who lived there, which in turn forced mikael back to a miserable place he felt trapped in & now he is dead. im coping in strange ways. or maybe im not. i worry that im grieving in an unhealthy manner, which makes me worry, which makes me wonder if i overanalyze everything in my life to this extent, which makes me feel guilty for thinking im overanalyzing something that is indeed worth the amount of analyzation im in fact giving it, if not more. see how crazy i am??? why can't i just be devastated & accept that, be comfortable with it? truth is i missed him long before he was actually gone gone. i only had a solid year. & then he had to get out of our world for a little while. & then back in a little. & then new orleans. & then back a little. & then that last night. the last time i saw him was the first time, in a year of living there, he had seen my aparatment. that gives a good example of the time i spent at josh, alex, & mikael's those 6 months of them living together & then how little i saw him after he took off. he was drunk and happened to call josh while we were all at my place, and he stumbled down farm ave to us. everytime i saw him after that first year it was always like yes. mikael. happiness. cant help but be happy. he's okay, he's alive. i still have him. & we all kind of, somewhere knew we wouldnt have him for long. that was mikael. but i prayed it wouldnt be in this way. that last night i considered telling him to spend the night, to make it like old times...my favorite times in hartford...just to have a night with him. but i didnt. he went home with josh & sarah...or at least left at the same time...i miss his smell. he smelled like some cologne & some cheap vodka most of the time. but the mixture of those smells & his smell combined so sweetly, like nothing else in the world. he constantly got mad at me for asking him for things or using please & thank you, he expected me to just take whatever it was from him, but excused it occasionally due in part to my southern roots. he played with my hair like my mother does. we stared at each other a lot, perfectly comfortable with the silence, & tuned in as well as i can with melissa. ive always been able to honestly say he was one of kind. something to cherish. i hope he really knew. i know he really knew. at least he knew i loved him, & that's all i have control of. i dont want to believe any of this is real...it's way too fucking soon. & i cant be there & it's killing me. i just want to sit in josh & sarah's living room and laugh at each mikaelism & story...i want to tell about the time we all slept in the empty house on whitney, balancing on the precipice of an era, freezing our asses off & sending josh to the store to get first aide equip for mikael after he fell under my car face first...i want to get drunk with them & cry & lay on each other & talk to him together...but i cant. i miss everyone a lot. all of this is breaking glass. all of this is stabbing pain. all of this is the worst turn in events ever.
and this doesnt help like i thought it maybe sorta could of.
from delusion lead me to truth
from darkness lead me to light
from death lead me to eternal life.