Carrie and I circa 1995. We were at a Christian Death with Eva O and Crux Shadows show... We were fighting... about what, I can't remember... Jade took this and sent it to me later with the words on it...
Dear you,
Eight years ago, you decided you had to go in some cruel April Fools day joke.... When I found out, because Jade found me on Friendster and emailed me, I thought-- some people were born with one foot in the grave; you were born standing in it.
I know we didn't talk much in the years before you killed yourself, but you were such a guiding force in my life from 18-22... I can't imagine who I would be without you. You were there when I first experienced women, so many drugs, heartache, jobs, places, accidents, and random events... You were there for so many firsts... You were there when I sat up crying and writing; devastated over the end of one relationship or another.... You were always on heroin, for the entire 11 years we were friends... I can't believe I didn't fall down that rabbit hole with you. I know I have rarely said that in words. I know no one talks about it.... because it was such a blurry piece of background info; it almost seems beside the point... But I know in the back of my mind that it wasn't.
The last time we spoke, I was living at my mom's, post BA, pre MA.... so fucked up.... so lost.... so unhappy. I felt useless. I had moved there to get out of an unhealthy addiction-based relationship. I had been sexually harassed at my bank job, and fired when I told them. I felt hopeless. I was drinking heavily, but that was better than what I was doing in LA. We talked on the phone, but I can't remember why we never hung out. Were you living elsewhere? Were we just too busy? You told me about interning for Stern and how mean he had been. You seemed utterly destroyed by him... I understood in this way we always understood each other. The "real" world had been cruel to me too. I got how much his words-- this humor to hundreds of thousands-- was truly cutting. I understood how much he got to you. When I later discussed this with Jade, she brushed it off-- she was a heroin addict, that's what killed her-- but for some reason, I knew that there was some other element... Some element that has to do with not making it in life, as you had hoped. That is the element I get-- the disappointment of it all...
The night before your funeral, we stayed up drinking absynth. On the way to the funeral, I said "we should get tattoos." They asked, "of what?" and it came to me like you had come to me-- a bright light in the darkness of a goth club... "Purple stars," I replied. So we did... We went to your funeral, where everyone was afraid to talk. The extended family was told you had gone in a car accident... You were cremated and would be buried with your mom. I thought, "oh god, she would fucking hate that..." It was surreal. The goths were there in number-- ultra dramatic, just like you would have liked it...
And that's where I met Kristen. We had a brief chat right before I left to sit in the car because I couldn't handle any of it... She said she was moving to LA and got my email. I hardly remember it. She was chipper and kind, as she always was-- covering the sadness and regret she felt at the last words she said to you....
I don't remember the last words I said to you. I just remember that you were one day finally gone... Feeling that numb you always sought...
I wish you had've found a way to be that purple star you always were to me, and will always be.
I don't know how to end this, as I am sure you understand... I heard you wrote a letter, though I never read it.... I just hope you found a tiny bit of peace in the next life, even though I am sure that would drive you fucking crazy all the same...
In the meantime, you are the purple star that will always remind me not to cut my left wrist... and thank you endlessly for that...
xo
Love, me
Eight years ago, you decided you had to go in some cruel April Fools day joke.... When I found out, because Jade found me on Friendster and emailed me, I thought-- some people were born with one foot in the grave; you were born standing in it.
I know we didn't talk much in the years before you killed yourself, but you were such a guiding force in my life from 18-22... I can't imagine who I would be without you. You were there when I first experienced women, so many drugs, heartache, jobs, places, accidents, and random events... You were there for so many firsts... You were there when I sat up crying and writing; devastated over the end of one relationship or another.... You were always on heroin, for the entire 11 years we were friends... I can't believe I didn't fall down that rabbit hole with you. I know I have rarely said that in words. I know no one talks about it.... because it was such a blurry piece of background info; it almost seems beside the point... But I know in the back of my mind that it wasn't.
The last time we spoke, I was living at my mom's, post BA, pre MA.... so fucked up.... so lost.... so unhappy. I felt useless. I had moved there to get out of an unhealthy addiction-based relationship. I had been sexually harassed at my bank job, and fired when I told them. I felt hopeless. I was drinking heavily, but that was better than what I was doing in LA. We talked on the phone, but I can't remember why we never hung out. Were you living elsewhere? Were we just too busy? You told me about interning for Stern and how mean he had been. You seemed utterly destroyed by him... I understood in this way we always understood each other. The "real" world had been cruel to me too. I got how much his words-- this humor to hundreds of thousands-- was truly cutting. I understood how much he got to you. When I later discussed this with Jade, she brushed it off-- she was a heroin addict, that's what killed her-- but for some reason, I knew that there was some other element... Some element that has to do with not making it in life, as you had hoped. That is the element I get-- the disappointment of it all...
The night before your funeral, we stayed up drinking absynth. On the way to the funeral, I said "we should get tattoos." They asked, "of what?" and it came to me like you had come to me-- a bright light in the darkness of a goth club... "Purple stars," I replied. So we did... We went to your funeral, where everyone was afraid to talk. The extended family was told you had gone in a car accident... You were cremated and would be buried with your mom. I thought, "oh god, she would fucking hate that..." It was surreal. The goths were there in number-- ultra dramatic, just like you would have liked it...
And that's where I met Kristen. We had a brief chat right before I left to sit in the car because I couldn't handle any of it... She said she was moving to LA and got my email. I hardly remember it. She was chipper and kind, as she always was-- covering the sadness and regret she felt at the last words she said to you....
I don't remember the last words I said to you. I just remember that you were one day finally gone... Feeling that numb you always sought...
I wish you had've found a way to be that purple star you always were to me, and will always be.
I don't know how to end this, as I am sure you understand... I heard you wrote a letter, though I never read it.... I just hope you found a tiny bit of peace in the next life, even though I am sure that would drive you fucking crazy all the same...
In the meantime, you are the purple star that will always remind me not to cut my left wrist... and thank you endlessly for that...
xo
Love, me
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