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Sunday March 30, 08
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12:28 PM - Writings. Negative comments will be ignored. Live with it.
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It's not a battle. We're not enemies. No one's hiding in the trees. No one's got spiked poles, bombs or any of that. It's not a matter of winning. There will never be a finale you can evaluate. And when he kills himself, don't say he was lost. The depression is a living and changing part of you. I'm not saying take the pills so it will deaden and loosen its grip.The guts are pulsating with incorrect chemicals or a weakness of resolve. It's not a contest of wills. When he walked by, I thought maybe tomorrow I would ask him about or tell him about he was one among many in the unhappy halls, but that was his Special Day, I learned once and for all. We are so entirely powerless to help one another in this fashion. I would rather make a big fool of myself than live with those questions. Rather be thought an intrusive, ridiculous idiot than feel the silence when someone is gone; "too young" and all that regretful verbiage stowed as deep as it feels. When you see the mother, the sister, the weeping and everyone stuffed and overflowed the Catholic church in the Fall, it's entirely WRONG. We came together, what could have been a wedding, but instead to celebrate the entire culture's future to take care of its own. Maybe it feels better to say he lost the battle. But you can go fuck yourself.
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