emo is so in right now.
A friend of mine died this weekend. She was reported missing on Thursday and found Monday morning. It is positive that it's a suicide.
She and I weren't extremely close but I can't get over how angry I am that she's dead.
There's so much to it; most of which I'm afraid to talk about in the case that I come off accusatory. There is a catalyst. There definitely was.
She was amazing. An artist, a spiritual person, and gentle. Looking at her, you knew that she had secrets. There was no doubt. She was softspoken and resistent until she got to know you; then she'd bloom like a flower...so receptive and so welcoming.
Haha, the first time we met at a friends; we spoke about gigantic tattoos on thighs (she had a water goddess on her thigh and I wanted a painted elephant head on mine), ate bing cherries and giggled at the way life is. I ordered Chinese food and made her eat it; we joked that she made Chinese food her major food group a long time ago (ah, the potential for Jewish-Chinese food jokes -- her family went to Israel often on peace-conflict excursions) and after that we became friends.
She was a free-spirit in the truest form of the phrase. She'd been to Central America and couldn't wait til this summer to go back (to stay with a good friend). She loved her mom; her mom had a heart surgery and she dropped out of school for the semester to take care of her.
For many reasons, mostly out of respect for the family, I'm going to leave out the drama leading to her death. Even if I control who see's this and who does not, I feel like it's an intensely private thing to share.
She was a musician; she'd perform in front of shops in the University City Loop when she wasn't performing in bars and in smaller music venues. I work at a music venue in Soulard and wanted her to come to perform (and so did she) but she focused more on recording (and has a music myspace page) before she dropped out of school. She had a sweet voice and sometimes she really needed to speak up. She was afraid of being herself at times. It was a strange thing to witness.
She had to express herself through various things because flat out telling someone how she felt wasn't her forte, and she was goofy in doing so. She had a great view about love. Why leave anyone out when love should be universal, she said to me once.
Well Dora dear, you were definitely loved. I am so sorry that you felt that this was your way out of a situation you didn't want to be in.
I'll never really understand why she had to end it by her own hands. I want to not be angry she's dead, I want to make peace with it. Writing this out is helping.
Maybe the funeral will help, maybe it won't. But I am looking forward to celebrating her life. She was someone that truly lived it when she could. She could've kept on living and this bothers me so much. She must've felt totally hopeless and that saddens me.
I hate when people fake an emotion to get a rise out of them. If you are alive, if you can at least grasp the idea that there is a light at the end of every dark tunnel, then you'll be okay.
As corny as it sounds, there is always hope. Maybe you find fault in that, but in my mind, when I'm at my most miserable, I know that things will change. I know that I can survive that day, that week, that month and make it out changed, but alive. It hurts, but you're there, you're part of the world. The pain does subside most of the time. There's so much to look forward to.
...I can't write Dora back into the world, but I really wish I could.
I can't make you all see what I see, but the world has lost someone wonderful.
Dora Magrath
I hope you are free, Dora.
She and I weren't extremely close but I can't get over how angry I am that she's dead.
There's so much to it; most of which I'm afraid to talk about in the case that I come off accusatory. There is a catalyst. There definitely was.
She was amazing. An artist, a spiritual person, and gentle. Looking at her, you knew that she had secrets. There was no doubt. She was softspoken and resistent until she got to know you; then she'd bloom like a flower...so receptive and so welcoming.
Haha, the first time we met at a friends; we spoke about gigantic tattoos on thighs (she had a water goddess on her thigh and I wanted a painted elephant head on mine), ate bing cherries and giggled at the way life is. I ordered Chinese food and made her eat it; we joked that she made Chinese food her major food group a long time ago (ah, the potential for Jewish-Chinese food jokes -- her family went to Israel often on peace-conflict excursions) and after that we became friends.
She was a free-spirit in the truest form of the phrase. She'd been to Central America and couldn't wait til this summer to go back (to stay with a good friend). She loved her mom; her mom had a heart surgery and she dropped out of school for the semester to take care of her.
For many reasons, mostly out of respect for the family, I'm going to leave out the drama leading to her death. Even if I control who see's this and who does not, I feel like it's an intensely private thing to share.
She was a musician; she'd perform in front of shops in the University City Loop when she wasn't performing in bars and in smaller music venues. I work at a music venue in Soulard and wanted her to come to perform (and so did she) but she focused more on recording (and has a music myspace page) before she dropped out of school. She had a sweet voice and sometimes she really needed to speak up. She was afraid of being herself at times. It was a strange thing to witness.
She had to express herself through various things because flat out telling someone how she felt wasn't her forte, and she was goofy in doing so. She had a great view about love. Why leave anyone out when love should be universal, she said to me once.
Well Dora dear, you were definitely loved. I am so sorry that you felt that this was your way out of a situation you didn't want to be in.
I'll never really understand why she had to end it by her own hands. I want to not be angry she's dead, I want to make peace with it. Writing this out is helping.
Maybe the funeral will help, maybe it won't. But I am looking forward to celebrating her life. She was someone that truly lived it when she could. She could've kept on living and this bothers me so much. She must've felt totally hopeless and that saddens me.
I hate when people fake an emotion to get a rise out of them. If you are alive, if you can at least grasp the idea that there is a light at the end of every dark tunnel, then you'll be okay.
As corny as it sounds, there is always hope. Maybe you find fault in that, but in my mind, when I'm at my most miserable, I know that things will change. I know that I can survive that day, that week, that month and make it out changed, but alive. It hurts, but you're there, you're part of the world. The pain does subside most of the time. There's so much to look forward to.
...I can't write Dora back into the world, but I really wish I could.
I can't make you all see what I see, but the world has lost someone wonderful.
Dora Magrath
I hope you are free, Dora.