Rage

I keep coming back to this one.

Someone said to me:
"I know it must be hard when the world moves on and you are left in the aftermath of his decision."
They said that perfectly. I am so trapped by his decision. To this day. I am so angry with him for doing that. For promising to never put me through this and doing it two weeks later. For abandoning me, and not giving himself a chance. For robbing me of my youth and ingraining in my memory the horror of seeing him that way. I am angry with myself for not getting there faster. For not saving him, or stopping it. With his parents for the way they treated him and pretending like they didn't do this to him..he always felt helpless and not accepted. And for making me feel even more helpless when it happened. With his brother for his hatefulness those last weeks. With my mother for not understanding and being what she needed to be. With her controlling nature and trying to own my grief, and making me feel the same way Chantz's parents used to make him feel. With family members that tell me I need to move on and are surprised that I still haven't. As if there weren't feelings of betrayal associated with me moving on, or it were that damn easy. With my brother for not being there in any way. With those that moved on so quickly. With a roomate that thought the most insignificant things were worth crying over as if her life were about to end. With those that didn't know him that well and acted like they suffered a profound loss. With those that asked why he didn't go to them, when they were NEVER there for him while he was alive. If you want someone to go to you in their time of need, make sure you're there for them when that isn't the case. With those that judged him, amd judge(d) me as well. With the few that tried to shove the bible down my throat so I could "cope." With those "Christians" that claim their god is everything but their god's love was nowhere to be seen. I found more love, support and acceptance in those that dont believe in God, than in those that claim he is their everything. These thoughts are ugly, I am aware, but they are also real, and a part of this process I have to own and work through, just like everything else.

But mostly I am so angry because I am so helpless sometimes. So powerless to the entire situation, except in my acceptance.
I hate it.
If his decision was the catalyst to everything I've gone through these last ten months, then why is it that I had no influence over it? If something's going to change your life so drastically, shouldn't you at least get a fucking say in the matter?

When I come back to anger I burn all bridges and everything I've built so far. I dont think I've ever been consumed by such rage before..but that's really it though, it consumes me. No one else. My anger is only poisoning me.
Each time I come back to it it's different though, it's working through what I haven't dealt with yet. I'm hoping that the circularity of it will eventually end.
Only when I think I am done with a stage for good, it shows its ugly head again. But for my part, I am working in not destroying everything I've accomplished so far. It would take so little time to do so but far longer to start over again. I'm tired of starting over.
And the thing with acceptance, is that you realize that you can't fix it anymore, so you strive for peace.
I didnt want that for so long, it would mean he was really gone...but he is. And I want to do more than just survive. I want to live. I want to love. I want to be at peace.
I'm happy that I'm back in school, and that I'm looking for a job, and doing certain productive things as well as doing this benefit concert in a couple of days.
I'm cutting back on some of my vices, but that's the hardest part. All those vices only delude me into thinking I'm doing better because they make me feel significantly less. I'm working on that too.

What is there to say about grief?

Grief is a tidal wave that overtakes you, smashes you up into its darkness, where you tumble and crash against unidentifiable surfaces, only to be thrown out on an unknown beach, bruised, reshaped.
Grief means not being able to read more than two sentences at a time. It is walking into rooms with intention that suddenly vanishes.

Grief is three-o'clock-in-the-morning sweats that won't stop. It is dreadful Sundays, and Mondays that are no better. It makes you look for a face in a crowd, knowing full well the face we want cannot be found in that crowd.

Grief is utter aloneness that razes the rational mind and makes room for the phantasmagoric. It makes you suddenly get up and leave in the middle of a meeting, without saying a word.
Grief makes what others think of you moot. It shears away the masks of normal life and forces brutal honesty out of your mouth before propriety can stop you. It shoves away friends, scares away so-called friends, and rewrites your address book for you.

Grief makes you laugh at people who cry over spilled milk, right to their faces. It tells the world that you are untouchable at the very moment when touch is the only contact that might reach you. It makes lepers out of upstanding citizens.

Grief discriminates against no one. It kills. Maims. And cripples. It is the ashes from which the phoenix rises, and the mettle of rebirth. It returns life to the living dead. It teaches that there is nothing absolutely true or untrue. It assures the living that we know nothing for certain. It humbles. It shrouds. It blackens. It enlightens.
Grief will make a new person out of you, if it doesn't kill you in the making

(I've been here..I am still here)

Benefit Concert

For your birthday, I am throwing a benefit concert. The purpose of the night is to celebrate the significance and importance of life and to also raise awareness about the realities of suicide and those left behind in the aftermath. All the proceeds will go to To Write Love On Her Arms, a non-profit movement dedicated to presenting hope and finding help for people struggling with depression, addiction, self-injury and suicide in your memory.
I hate the reasons why I'm doing this. I hate that this big celebration is taking place and you wont even be there for it. I'm also angry with you..and hurt about it. I do things in your honor and you dont even know. But I think you would be proud that I am taking this step. I think this is the best way to honor and represent you and your life, and what you loved most....music. This is not me pretending you were someone else, this is just accepting it and rejoicing in it and hopefully making a tiny difference in helping someone else. No one should have to go through this, and I wish that I could do everything in my power to make that happen.

I'm hoping that this will also be therapeutic and healing for me. I've been dreading your birthday for months now, not knowing what I would do...ever since we started dating I did special things for your birthday and I knew that this year was going to be such a painful blow. There's no use in spending the day drinking it away
when I could use the it to help others, myself, and celebrate who you were, right?

I wasn't allowed at your funeral, and I remember being told that your parents said I should just do something on my own to honor you in my own way. It hurt to hear that..I just wanted to be near you and I couldn't. And at the time I was in no place to even plan something. My friends were wonderful enough to plan a friend visitation, and that was very sweet of them. But this is you in every way I can think of. Now I am in a place where I can do this for you. Funerals are a necessary ritual in the grieving process..I know that by not being able to be a part of that, it took me a lot longer to realize you were really gone and led to a lot of bitterness. Now I can have my own sort of closure after all this time and move a little forward in this process.
♥

You're in my dreams again.
It's been a long time since I've seen you there; and the first that they haven't been nightmares.
All our mannerisms, our way of being, the feelings, the inside moments..they're all there.
It feels like home.
Then I wake up and I can't believe it was only a dream.
You're not here.

Where have you been?
I still need you.

May 28

"You're smart, you're beautiful, you're sweet and you're the love of my life. Don't ever change a bit and do not for one second let anyone even get a second thought about you. "

I just recently found this in one of the many e-mails Chantz sent me while I was away in Spain.
I've read those countless times but I dont remember ever reading this one...almost felt like a message from him.

It was kind of eerie to read those words, they stopped me cold because I'm changed... I am not that person anymore. I've tried to destroy who I used to be entirely so it feels like someone who doesn't exist anymore lost him...not this girl, not me.

You wouldn't recongnize me anymore...I wonder if you would even love me.

I should take it as some sort of message..not from the beyond, but just a reminder from you. I need those sometimes.
As always, I love you.

A year ago today Chantz had finished his first week of his paid internship. He was really excited about the possibilities, getting paid to learn about what he was passionate about, and about the remaining couple of weeks of it. He had to dress up on the last day of week one and this is what he wore. I told him to keep it on until I got to his house because I loved seeing him dressed up and I had to take a picture of course. I was really happy for him because he actually set out to do something great and he was succeeding fast. Last summer was supposed to be the beginning of a lot of things for him, and they were all taking off. I always wonder where'd you be today and why you couldn't stay here to find out. I wanted to see you get there.  

Forever Young

May God bless and keep you always
May your wishes all come true
May you always do for others
And let others do for you
May you build a ladder to the stars
And climb on every rung
May you stay forever young
Forever young, forever young
May you stay forever young.

May you grow up to be righteous
May you grow up to be true
May you always know the truth
And see the lights surrounding you
May you always be courageous
Stand upright and be strong
May you stay forever young
Forever young, forever young
May you stay forever young.

May your hands always be busy
May your feet always be swift
May you have a strong foundation
When the winds of changes shift
May your heart always be joyful
And may your song always be sung

May you stay forever young
Forever young, forever young
May you stay forever young.

May you stay forever young my love♥

Happy 70th Bob Dylan.

The Crunch

 

What Sarah Said

 

And it came to me then that every plan is a tiny prayer to father time
As I stared at my shoes in the ICU that reeked of piss and 409
And I rationed my breaths as I said to myself that I'd already taken too much today
As each descending peak on the LCD took you a little farther away from me
Away from me

Amongst the vending machines and year-old magazines in a place where we only say goodbye
It stung like a violent wind that our memories depend on a faulty camera in our minds
But I knew that you were a truth I would rather lose than to have never lain beside at all
And I looked around at all the eyes on the ground as the TV entertained itself

'Cause there's no comfort in the waiting room
Just nervous pacers bracing for bad news
And then the nurse comes round and everyone will lift their heads
But I'm thinking of what Sarah said that "Love is watching someone die"

So who's going to watch you die?..

I never paid attention to this song or the lyrics up until a few months ago. It actually really bothered me. It was a very idealistic view of losing a loved one. This song doesn't tell you about the horror of the hospital night. Of waiting to hear anything, and hoping with all your might that he made it through.

 This song always takes me back to the moment in the hospital. I remember getting there before his parents and just walking around like a zombie in the waiting room. I remember looking at all these people around me and not being able to process it. And when his parents finally made it to the hospital we were all taken to a small room to wait for the doctor. They sat on one side of the room, and I sat on the other by myself. Then the doctors and nurses came in...and I knew.

It seemed like a scene from all the movies I've seen in the past, and I couldn't help but start crying for I knew what they were going to say. I remember one of the doctors looking at me in surprise due to the fact that they hadn't said a word and he asked "wait, have they spoken to you yet?" and all I could do was shake my head. Then his mother said words I will never forget, "he's gone isn't he?" and the doctors said yes.They said generic doctor things, they tried everything, etc. It didn't matter anymore. He was gone. I asked if I could see him, but it was against protocol. I kept saying that I just wanted to see him, that I needed to see him but that didn't get me anywhere.

That was the moment all hope for the night disappeared.

And looking back, I realize that was the worst part of the night for me. I was alone in facing the worst moment of my life thus far.

Just alone.

I remember his mom not wanting me in the room with them, and being taken out of it. I remember her piercing cry as the door closed behind me..I don't think I will ever forget that either...I remember standing and facing a wall and talking to myself. I remember the nurses laughing, and talking about dinner as if it were relevant to anything.

 Nothing made sense.

 My family eventually got there, and then his friends did too. All I could do was keep chainsmoking with them. I couldn't leave the hospital, I couldn't leave him. I remember telling my mom that I couldn't leave him because they were going to take his organs and he needed them. Eventually the shock took over and I couldn't feel anything.

 I kept trying to figure out if it was a dream but I was still in the same place and no ninjas or dragons had

 appeared. I wasn't suddenly in a whole different place doing something else. I knew it was real.  The thing about this song is that it romanticizes nights like these. That's not reality or how it will ever go for anyone.  And when I read this part of this poem, it takes me back to the same place too, but in a way that makes me feel that someone else knows the reality of nights like these, and then I don't feel so alone.

 

 

 

there is a loneliness in this world so great
that you can see it in the slow movement of
the hands of a clock.

people so tired
mutilated
either by love or no love.

people just are not good to each other
one on one.

the rich are not good to the rich
the poor are not good to the poor.

we are afraid.

our educational system tells us
that we can all be
big-ass winners.

it hasn't told us
about the gutters
or the suicides.

or the terror of one person
aching in one place
alone

untouched
unspoken to

watering a plant.

 

people are not good to each other.
people are not good to each other.
people are not good to each other.

I suppose they never will be.
I don't ask them to be.

but sometimes I think about
it.

the beads will swing
the clouds will cloud
and the killer will behead the child
like taking a bite out of an ice cream cone.

too much
too little

too fat
too thin
or nobody

more haters than lovers.

people are not good to each other.
perhaps if they were
our deaths would not be so sad.

meanwhile I look at young girls
stems
flowers of chance.

there must be a way.

surely there must be a way that we have not yet
thought of.

who put this brain inside of me?

it cries
it demands
it says that there is a chance.

it will not say
"no."

-Bukowski