Tuesday, April 28, 2009
So I went through rehab and missed my friends funeral. I am sure i would not have been that welcome, but i would have gone, head heald high. More for my friend than my own scabby faced self.
I was at rehab 21 days.
In that time the air conditioner was taken from my friends room... as was the stereo, a bart simpson telephone and the box it came in, two digital camera's, a carhart hoodie-which had been a christmas present from a co-worker, and a small myriad of other things. Where they went to I have no clue. I can only hope that if they ended up with the girlfriend she found some semblance of solace in them. But I doubt it. She bitterly blames me for his death. So bitterly that she finds it in her heart to show up poolside at 3:30 in the morning screaming how much she hates me, is gonna kill me, how it's my fault and i deserve to die because he did. and then she screams nonsense until the police, his parents and the local magistrate come and cart her away. Her and the guy that was with her, a little punk that was pumping up her pain in an effort to get into her pants. And he had partied here years ago with captain dreadlocks and of course myself. Til he got tossed out.
I can't help but think that others came and removed my tings to sellor trade for drugs, and i can;t help but think they couldn't have gotten much so why have bothered. And i wonder if the State Police took any of those things, and why they even would.
And now I miss my friend very very much. We were never involved. He was just my FRIEND and I cannot say anything that can convey anymore honor and put him onto a higher pedestal or sing his glory to the Gods than this. He was my FRIEND in all it encompasses.
The screaming banshee that is his girlfriend cannot believe that anyone grieves but herself. She is jealous of the grief others feel of his passing. I believe she has removed flowers from his grave that do not come from her.
She has made trouble for me in several ways, by appearing at one of my jobs in need of healthcare and screaming to keep me away from her when infact i was not even there, and of course giving me oh so much credability as a good neighbor with her 3:30 am stunt.
Her mom blames me for the police intervention,but i merely laid in my bed and waited for my neighbors children to get so riled up that they called the police instead.
But enough, the poor girl tried suicide when they had had a break up, and recovery from a breakup is always possible for where there is life there is hope. And now there is no life.
For her perhaps there is no hope. She sent Christmas cards this year with their pictures on them as though they were current.
and my life goes on. Which is one of the other reasons she loathes me. In her screaming hysteria she accused me of going on with my life as though nothing ever happend. Am I cold and shallow because I continue living as best as i can post tragedy? And each day that passes I say to my friend how much i miss him. She cannot see my grief, but just as she is jealous of others grief she is resentful that i am functionally handling mine.
21 days of rehab and 16 weeks of cognitive behavioral therapy, CBT (for those in the know) have me living alcohol free for 10 months now. Sobriety is not all it is cracked up to be. But if I was to take one drink, my friends would no longer speak to me. So I sit not drinking. I cannot say that I miss it. I can say that I am still semi depressed. I can say that i do not lose so much of my time sleeping in a drunken slumber.
I took another roomate by accident. He was the floor captain at my rehab. I had to ask him to move out. I am lonely but I cherish so much being alone and living that way.
He wasn't too bad til of course he quit his job and he and his mooey cow gorlfriend spent all their time lying around my house and using my possessions while i worked my 5 jobs. so he had to go and the guest room is now once more a guest room and i can only hope i find a friend like my lost one once more.
And I hope we can all find a little peace in his memory.
lately i have just been soooooo hungry. not food, oh my god i gotta eat hungry, but hungry for everything. I am hungry for a family, i want to wake the kids up for school. I am hungry for cash, i want oodles of it dripping out my pores let alone my wallet. I am hungry for remodeling, i want my house to look like a magazine pictorial. Hungry for swankier transportation, i want to be judged by my ride, not my personality. I am hungry for hot looking friends. I am hungry for sex. lots of sex. more sex than a person should have. with anyone, with everyone. Strangely i am hungry for monogamy. I want a blue collar jeans type no nonsense focused guy to wake up with everyday, the same guy, that 'manicorn', reliable, basic, loyal and hot because he has all of those characteristics. I want to devour youth. I hunger to wake up in a different place each day and to taste the culture of every walk of life. I hunger for a new career, for several new careers. I hunger for the energy to make things happen and the gnawing pit of my stomach hungers for the desire to do more than sit on the couch and dream. I hunger for everyone i have loved and have lost to the other side. I miss captain dreadlocks, i miss the drwoned roomie. I miss my parents. I hunger for the days when this house was alive with people in and out each day visiting me, and i hunger for the days when i was improtant, when i was social instead of the social disease i sometimes feel i have become. As summer approaches and the pool is thought to be opening, i hunger for the days when there would be 10-20 people just hanging around and would be all gung ho to make things happen and they were here for me. And now in silence i sit and type, trying to find a way to quench this hunger, to assuage the deep deep yearning for things that are no more and things that it may be to late to become. America is truly the land of the young and it is very difficult for those who do not age. I am 49 going on 17 and i am having a very tough time realizing it.
My well tested friends i have had for years all berate me in their own more than special ways for not growing old gracefully, but what is age but a reaction of others to the lines on your face.
I will not grow old. I will not grow complacent. I will not settle for not knowing the tastes of that which i have not encountered. Now I must but find the drive to actually reach out and grab the stuff of life and drag it to my breast intstead of being content as so many of my younger friends are, with saying i am going to do something being as good as doing it.