I'm waiting for the sky to fall
Every once in a while life surprises you. I'm completely devastated about losing Victor to the Western Front, but this entry isn't about that. I reached out to an old friend recently, and posting our messages will probably reveal a part of my life you probably didn't know existed, but many years ago this man was the only thing I could see. Reading his message broke my heart. I'm so happy he found the help he needed...
"Dear Henry,
Here's the pre-story: So, you were the first person I got high with, which you may or may not remember. And on the way to the party we were going to this MAGICAL song was on the radio... the next day neither of us could remember the name of it or which CD it was on and it's SERIOUSLY bothered me for the past six years.
Today, I watched my first episode of a television show so embarrassing that I refuse to tell you what it was, but the credits rolled and I started talking to my boyfriend, stopped mid-sentence, and yelled, "Oh my God! This SONG!" He was confused, I explained the story and immediately started Googling it. The version in the show was a guy and the version in the car was a woman, which may or may not have been acapella. Anyway, here's the closest I found to our original encounter: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M94hsU95LW8... I hope this makes you smile and that life is treating you kindly.
Fondly,
Lauren"
"dear lauren,
it really is so nice to hear from you. to think that you still remember me fondly, the way i do you, makes me happier than i'm sure you realize. i dunno if you know any of this, so i'll just go ahead an tell you. two years ago i entered a methadone clinic. for 4 years before that i had been addicted to heroin. at first i tried pretty hard to hide it from people, but near the end i didn't care. it was the winter of 06-07 that was particularly bad. i would walk around philly in nice dress clothes with torn holes in them (i had stolen them and it was all i had, two pairs of pants and like three shirts) and a long black dress coat all the while looking for places to cop or shoot up..etc. etc. (you saw the room i lived in) i would put up draperies, imagine i was being bohemian and listen to music as i nodded off for the umpteenth time. i played music in a band, and would fall unconscious in mid song. i worked as a waiter and despite my best attempts to clean up, i would get yelled at by the boss and the chefs because i couldn't remember the orders and took too many cigarette breaks dreaming about the sky and poetry n shit. but i needed that job for my drugs. i'd get high in the bathroom at work so i could stand the shifts and not puke and get found out. for some reason the boss had a soft spot for me and kept me on. i got robbed on the streets, held up at gun point, knife point, etc. strip searched by cops, lost in the hood of unknown cities, the only white boy in run down buildings of crackheads (including young men and old women, whores who begged me for money, pimps threatening me etc) robbed, trying to cop, playing cards, lying on the floor, smoking crack, schizoid, paranoid, shooting up too much, almost dying, not knowing where i was. everybody had given up on me except for the drugs. so i held onto them. i can say that during that time i felt a loneliness and a desperation that i hadn't known was possible. but the dope helped me to numb it.
so anyway, i entered the clinic two years ago and have in effect been clean ever since. (in effect cause i still take methadone) i don't drink, i don't smoke, i don't take pills and i don't shoot up or smoke crack. i dunno if you still drink. it just occurred to me that you were drinking a lot when i last saw you. so was i. alcoholism was my first stop before the rest of it. anyway, i'm clean now and trying to put the pieces of my life back together, to learn how to live life happily without drugs is hard and exciting at the same time. ( i know i'm a stereotype. next thing you know i'll be born again christian. jk. but seriously, the thing about going to the depths of hell is that you just don't care anymore if you're considered a stereotype, you just want to get better.) it's going so slow though, and i still have very few friends because i still can't hang with people who drink or use without being tempted to go back. that's partially why it's so nice to hear from you, a voice from my past.
in my hazy drug addled memory i'm still not sure how truly bad i was when i was with you. but i can remember basically being an ass, for that i'll always be sorry. but i'm not sorry i knew you, because i still care about you, and many of my memories with you make me happy. i did absolutely love you in the only way i knew possible at the time. i need to hold onto those kind of memories. the good ones. life is strange, it passes us by constantly without reprieve and all we can do is float on the water and hope to avoid certain pitfalls. often thinking about it fills me with a quiet but profound sadness. i still have strange dreams about helyar house, they mostly involve me trying to avoid being seen for the ass i truly am. i love you lauren and i really hope you're doing well and you're happy. i hope you've found somebody that loves you and treats you right and more importantly somebody YOU love.
thanks again for the song. i just remembered what cd that song was on. if you give me your info, i'll try my best to get a hold of a copy and send it to you...thanks for being there for me in so many of my darkest hours....
love,
henry."
My message to him seems sort of insensitive after reading his response, but I didn't know how serious it all was. "Life is strange, it passes us by constantly without reprieve..."
Last night I was laying in bed and finally came to some sort of decision about my life: Plan A: Obviously I'm hoping desperately for the job in Burbank; hoping it can start in September and I can live my last two months of my lease out in New Brunswick. Plan B: Move home in September (at the end of my lease), substitute teach, maybe take a class or two toward my Masters in education, and move to Colorado in January. I know this seems crazy, but my desperate unhappiness at the idea of Victor being so far away has forced me to see that I don't want to live here without him. When I say it out loud it all sounds very childish, but I think this is it.
Happy Wednesday.
"Dear Henry,
Here's the pre-story: So, you were the first person I got high with, which you may or may not remember. And on the way to the party we were going to this MAGICAL song was on the radio... the next day neither of us could remember the name of it or which CD it was on and it's SERIOUSLY bothered me for the past six years.
Today, I watched my first episode of a television show so embarrassing that I refuse to tell you what it was, but the credits rolled and I started talking to my boyfriend, stopped mid-sentence, and yelled, "Oh my God! This SONG!" He was confused, I explained the story and immediately started Googling it. The version in the show was a guy and the version in the car was a woman, which may or may not have been acapella. Anyway, here's the closest I found to our original encounter: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M94hsU95LW8... I hope this makes you smile and that life is treating you kindly.
Fondly,
Lauren"
"dear lauren,
it really is so nice to hear from you. to think that you still remember me fondly, the way i do you, makes me happier than i'm sure you realize. i dunno if you know any of this, so i'll just go ahead an tell you. two years ago i entered a methadone clinic. for 4 years before that i had been addicted to heroin. at first i tried pretty hard to hide it from people, but near the end i didn't care. it was the winter of 06-07 that was particularly bad. i would walk around philly in nice dress clothes with torn holes in them (i had stolen them and it was all i had, two pairs of pants and like three shirts) and a long black dress coat all the while looking for places to cop or shoot up..etc. etc. (you saw the room i lived in) i would put up draperies, imagine i was being bohemian and listen to music as i nodded off for the umpteenth time. i played music in a band, and would fall unconscious in mid song. i worked as a waiter and despite my best attempts to clean up, i would get yelled at by the boss and the chefs because i couldn't remember the orders and took too many cigarette breaks dreaming about the sky and poetry n shit. but i needed that job for my drugs. i'd get high in the bathroom at work so i could stand the shifts and not puke and get found out. for some reason the boss had a soft spot for me and kept me on. i got robbed on the streets, held up at gun point, knife point, etc. strip searched by cops, lost in the hood of unknown cities, the only white boy in run down buildings of crackheads (including young men and old women, whores who begged me for money, pimps threatening me etc) robbed, trying to cop, playing cards, lying on the floor, smoking crack, schizoid, paranoid, shooting up too much, almost dying, not knowing where i was. everybody had given up on me except for the drugs. so i held onto them. i can say that during that time i felt a loneliness and a desperation that i hadn't known was possible. but the dope helped me to numb it.
so anyway, i entered the clinic two years ago and have in effect been clean ever since. (in effect cause i still take methadone) i don't drink, i don't smoke, i don't take pills and i don't shoot up or smoke crack. i dunno if you still drink. it just occurred to me that you were drinking a lot when i last saw you. so was i. alcoholism was my first stop before the rest of it. anyway, i'm clean now and trying to put the pieces of my life back together, to learn how to live life happily without drugs is hard and exciting at the same time. ( i know i'm a stereotype. next thing you know i'll be born again christian. jk. but seriously, the thing about going to the depths of hell is that you just don't care anymore if you're considered a stereotype, you just want to get better.) it's going so slow though, and i still have very few friends because i still can't hang with people who drink or use without being tempted to go back. that's partially why it's so nice to hear from you, a voice from my past.
in my hazy drug addled memory i'm still not sure how truly bad i was when i was with you. but i can remember basically being an ass, for that i'll always be sorry. but i'm not sorry i knew you, because i still care about you, and many of my memories with you make me happy. i did absolutely love you in the only way i knew possible at the time. i need to hold onto those kind of memories. the good ones. life is strange, it passes us by constantly without reprieve and all we can do is float on the water and hope to avoid certain pitfalls. often thinking about it fills me with a quiet but profound sadness. i still have strange dreams about helyar house, they mostly involve me trying to avoid being seen for the ass i truly am. i love you lauren and i really hope you're doing well and you're happy. i hope you've found somebody that loves you and treats you right and more importantly somebody YOU love.
thanks again for the song. i just remembered what cd that song was on. if you give me your info, i'll try my best to get a hold of a copy and send it to you...thanks for being there for me in so many of my darkest hours....
love,
henry."
My message to him seems sort of insensitive after reading his response, but I didn't know how serious it all was. "Life is strange, it passes us by constantly without reprieve..."
Last night I was laying in bed and finally came to some sort of decision about my life: Plan A: Obviously I'm hoping desperately for the job in Burbank; hoping it can start in September and I can live my last two months of my lease out in New Brunswick. Plan B: Move home in September (at the end of my lease), substitute teach, maybe take a class or two toward my Masters in education, and move to Colorado in January. I know this seems crazy, but my desperate unhappiness at the idea of Victor being so far away has forced me to see that I don't want to live here without him. When I say it out loud it all sounds very childish, but I think this is it.
Happy Wednesday.