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So, for the first time in a long time, I'm going to use this Journal as well, a journal. I really don't post too much about myself, outside of being a total freak of nature. BUT, it's been kind of a hard week and this weekend is going to involve mass amounts of things I really, really don't want to do and want to, all at the same time. Not locked because, I really don't have much to hide. I don't mind sharing my personal life and no, not asking for pity.
October just isn't a good month for me. Mostly because of work and the changes that take places, etc. But, if any one here remembers, and I know a few do, last October was the worst time of my life. A few other things happened after to make it all the worse, but October was when I took the brunt of it. I made a big long post about it before, but I never responded to comments. Sorry.
The start of Oct 26 was me bring home my roommate/best friend/platonic love of my life Daniel home from the bars at 2am and dealing with a very drunk, very depressed man. Who ended up overdosing that day. I still think about coming home from work, to Daniel, not finding him alive and being alone in the house with him. It's something that I think of every time I smell a drunk sweaty guy. I've been at IHOP studying and all of a sudden there are guys from the bar come in, the smell that comes with them, the same one that smelt on Daniel, and I panic and I have to leave.
Now, really tomorrow, I'm heading to his hometown (a 4 hour drive) to visit his grave and talk to his mom. I know she has a lot of questions, but her being the woman that she is, will never ask them. My own personal thoughts on her are skewed as it is and I am contently torn over what to think about her. My Mom, who has been there for me this whole time and will be going with me on this trip, connects with her as mothers do. She understands and has a very high opinion. I have one as well, from the time I first meet her when Daniel and I decided to became roommates, to the second time when I had to greet her into the house so she could pack her son's belongs up. Then, I also had the view of a very sad, lonely, little boy who felt, for the most part, that his family didn't care.
I'm torn between hating this woman and wanting to hug her and say, "god, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean for it to happen. I'm so sorry."
Mostly? Because I feel guilty for what happened in the long run. I know I'm not at fault, but there is always that what if and I feel mine is a little deeper. Bad choices.
Back to the trip, I just found out that his two best friends want to have dinner with me Saturday night. The best friends he grew up with. This? This is cannot handle. I know that one won't ask question, because I just know she won't, but the other? I think he will. I don't think he will have any problem asking me things I will answer but hate every moment of it. That he will ask things that I don't want to tell, because I know Daniel wouldn't never want anyone to know. I don't know if I should say no to them, lie to them or just not talk the whole time.
The one question I am dreading, but I will answer anyways, is about his overdosing. Daniel was on wellbutrin and he was drinking. A bad mix. I caught him in the bathroom after I picked him up from the bars, trying to swallow the rest of the bottle. Of which I made him throw up, and try to make him go to the hospital. But I can't lift a 5' 11", 180lbs of uncooperative dead weight. He didn't want to go. He doesn't want to go, they can't make him. And at the time? I think i didn't want to know what was really going on and didn't want to think about what happened. I suppose, a bad choice on my part if not the biggest regret to date.
The next morning, we said he was blacking out, a sign of the med's and alcohol. But still, didn't want to go. I went to work and came home to a dark house, TV on, that feeling that god, I'm a drama queen. Daniel is FINE. and then seeing him on the couch with saran wrap around his face, dead.
They said his heart stopped before he suffocated. That the med's did it. It's not, nor ever will be, reassuring. i was sick right after, strep to tonsillitis. I didn't realize and didn't go to the doctor till a week and after dropping 16lb and realizing I hadn't eaten in 3 days. I refused to take medication for the most part, even vitamins.
The things that happened after, well, I work best under stress. I called everyone and made arrangements to the funeral. Some didn't have cars, I found ways. I was 20 mins late to it, i rode with friends since I was still sick, the stopped while I was sleeping to smoke so i wouldn't be worse. I still hate them for the miss guided care.
I got up to speak in front of a room full of people I didn't know, or will I ever know. I'm not a public speaker, my knee's shake and my voice cracks. I speak too fast and forget what I'm saying. I had worked the whole time on what to say, but what do I say to family that I'm sure wishes my time slot had been given to someone else? I was the only non-family member allowed to talk. I cried in front of them, I cried and said Daniel would laugh at me for dressing up and doing my hair. That he was a great person, he was everything you ever say about a person durning a funeral.
I really wanted to say, no, you'll never understand. I took care of him, I loved him. I want him back. He microwaved chicken nuggets with me at 2am and we ate it with chili sauce. What we watch Queer as Folk over Thai Food. We would sit at a coffee shop for hours, almost everyday, and talk. That we would go out every Wednesday night to dance, because it was no cover at the Big Easy. That he would be my DD at parties and save me from myself when i would wander into the wrong room with the wrong person. That I had to be there when Daniel fell, drunk, and cracked his head open. A 4 am visit to the hospital and holding his head and seeing the chip of skull they took out of the wound. That I came home to him dead and tearing the wrap off his face and turning off the lights and being in the dark with him. That yes, I was the one who cleaned out his porn and stole all the photo's from his room before his mom could come. That i still have a box of his stuff, sitting in my closet and no, I still haven't taken his number out of my phone.
And after all of that, I went back to my life. I couldn't finish my semester out, I missed too many days. I had surgery, my dad had surgery. I avoided everyone I knew that had anything to do with him.
Now I have to deal with it. I'm just not ready for it. I've writen about it, English papers and memory assignment. Artist statements. Talking to those who don't want to talk about it, because I want to talk about it. I still talk if he was alive today.
But, all this and I will still dread the trip. I will still think, god, I'm sorry you lost your son/brother/friend. God, I didn't mean for it. God, please, please don't ask me things I can't answer.
October just isn't a good month for me. Mostly because of work and the changes that take places, etc. But, if any one here remembers, and I know a few do, last October was the worst time of my life. A few other things happened after to make it all the worse, but October was when I took the brunt of it. I made a big long post about it before, but I never responded to comments. Sorry.
The start of Oct 26 was me bring home my roommate/best friend/platonic love of my life Daniel home from the bars at 2am and dealing with a very drunk, very depressed man. Who ended up overdosing that day. I still think about coming home from work, to Daniel, not finding him alive and being alone in the house with him. It's something that I think of every time I smell a drunk sweaty guy. I've been at IHOP studying and all of a sudden there are guys from the bar come in, the smell that comes with them, the same one that smelt on Daniel, and I panic and I have to leave.
Now, really tomorrow, I'm heading to his hometown (a 4 hour drive) to visit his grave and talk to his mom. I know she has a lot of questions, but her being the woman that she is, will never ask them. My own personal thoughts on her are skewed as it is and I am contently torn over what to think about her. My Mom, who has been there for me this whole time and will be going with me on this trip, connects with her as mothers do. She understands and has a very high opinion. I have one as well, from the time I first meet her when Daniel and I decided to became roommates, to the second time when I had to greet her into the house so she could pack her son's belongs up. Then, I also had the view of a very sad, lonely, little boy who felt, for the most part, that his family didn't care.
I'm torn between hating this woman and wanting to hug her and say, "god, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean for it to happen. I'm so sorry."
Mostly? Because I feel guilty for what happened in the long run. I know I'm not at fault, but there is always that what if and I feel mine is a little deeper. Bad choices.
Back to the trip, I just found out that his two best friends want to have dinner with me Saturday night. The best friends he grew up with. This? This is cannot handle. I know that one won't ask question, because I just know she won't, but the other? I think he will. I don't think he will have any problem asking me things I will answer but hate every moment of it. That he will ask things that I don't want to tell, because I know Daniel wouldn't never want anyone to know. I don't know if I should say no to them, lie to them or just not talk the whole time.
The one question I am dreading, but I will answer anyways, is about his overdosing. Daniel was on wellbutrin and he was drinking. A bad mix. I caught him in the bathroom after I picked him up from the bars, trying to swallow the rest of the bottle. Of which I made him throw up, and try to make him go to the hospital. But I can't lift a 5' 11", 180lbs of uncooperative dead weight. He didn't want to go. He doesn't want to go, they can't make him. And at the time? I think i didn't want to know what was really going on and didn't want to think about what happened. I suppose, a bad choice on my part if not the biggest regret to date.
The next morning, we said he was blacking out, a sign of the med's and alcohol. But still, didn't want to go. I went to work and came home to a dark house, TV on, that feeling that god, I'm a drama queen. Daniel is FINE. and then seeing him on the couch with saran wrap around his face, dead.
They said his heart stopped before he suffocated. That the med's did it. It's not, nor ever will be, reassuring. i was sick right after, strep to tonsillitis. I didn't realize and didn't go to the doctor till a week and after dropping 16lb and realizing I hadn't eaten in 3 days. I refused to take medication for the most part, even vitamins.
The things that happened after, well, I work best under stress. I called everyone and made arrangements to the funeral. Some didn't have cars, I found ways. I was 20 mins late to it, i rode with friends since I was still sick, the stopped while I was sleeping to smoke so i wouldn't be worse. I still hate them for the miss guided care.
I got up to speak in front of a room full of people I didn't know, or will I ever know. I'm not a public speaker, my knee's shake and my voice cracks. I speak too fast and forget what I'm saying. I had worked the whole time on what to say, but what do I say to family that I'm sure wishes my time slot had been given to someone else? I was the only non-family member allowed to talk. I cried in front of them, I cried and said Daniel would laugh at me for dressing up and doing my hair. That he was a great person, he was everything you ever say about a person durning a funeral.
I really wanted to say, no, you'll never understand. I took care of him, I loved him. I want him back. He microwaved chicken nuggets with me at 2am and we ate it with chili sauce. What we watch Queer as Folk over Thai Food. We would sit at a coffee shop for hours, almost everyday, and talk. That we would go out every Wednesday night to dance, because it was no cover at the Big Easy. That he would be my DD at parties and save me from myself when i would wander into the wrong room with the wrong person. That I had to be there when Daniel fell, drunk, and cracked his head open. A 4 am visit to the hospital and holding his head and seeing the chip of skull they took out of the wound. That I came home to him dead and tearing the wrap off his face and turning off the lights and being in the dark with him. That yes, I was the one who cleaned out his porn and stole all the photo's from his room before his mom could come. That i still have a box of his stuff, sitting in my closet and no, I still haven't taken his number out of my phone.
And after all of that, I went back to my life. I couldn't finish my semester out, I missed too many days. I had surgery, my dad had surgery. I avoided everyone I knew that had anything to do with him.
Now I have to deal with it. I'm just not ready for it. I've writen about it, English papers and memory assignment. Artist statements. Talking to those who don't want to talk about it, because I want to talk about it. I still talk if he was alive today.
But, all this and I will still dread the trip. I will still think, god, I'm sorry you lost your son/brother/friend. God, I didn't mean for it. God, please, please don't ask me things I can't answer.
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*HUGGLES*
It's not much, but I'm so, so sorry!
*MORE HUGS*
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Good luck.
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I know that there's nothing I can say that will make any of this better, so....
*many more hugs*
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oh, seat meat, je t'aime! :x I hate that you've gone through such emotionally trying things, and that people will try to hash them up again this weekend. please call me if you need me.
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"I'm sorry, I'm not ready to talk about that." Or "Let's talk about something else."
And if he can't take that as a hint,
"That was Daniel's business."
People are curious about these things, but you certainly don't have to satisfy that.
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B
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You'll be ready to deal on your own time. It's good and right of you to be making this trip, but don't let anybody force you into things you're not ready for yet.
I don't know you that well yet, but my thoughts are with you.