“Philosophy is something reasoned and heavy; poetry something winged, flashing, inspired…It is the acme of life to understand life. The height of poetry is to speak the language of the gods.”

– George Santayana, Three Philosophical Poets

Okies emo moment over, I had a bad day. Grief is a bitch of a thing. Hormones suck too.

I should explain myself. I lost my best friend to suicide, it’s been mentioned on here before. I have spoken to and met many people who have dealt with a suicide. It isn’t easy. There are no answers, usually when someone passes there’s a reason, with suicide there’s often not. We are burying his ashes in December (he died last year on the 3rd December), so have been talking to a close friend regarding it, and basically just when I think I am dealing with it all, it kinda hit me again yesterday. Tears flowed, memories I keep buried rose and well you had a very wired me. It doesn’t take much at the moment I have a very sensitive nature. I tend to withdraw when I get like this.

He wasn’t just a friend he was like a big brother for me. We flatted together on and off a few times over the past 15 years. He could make me laugh being goofy as he always was. He was a calming influence on me and he always had the right advice. Sometimes he would shake his head at the insane shit I did but he accepted me and was proud to be a friend of mine. Platonic friends in every sense. I remember the day he came to me all excited because he had met this woman that he really liked. He was an extremely shy person, he didn’t initiate relationships, he was in all essence a genuine sweetie. And he was a shortass like me. Me being me, wanted to know all the juicy details and then proceeded to help him “grow some balls” as we term it here, and tell this chick he liked her.

To cut a long story short, they became a couple, they had a gorgeous little girl, everything was great, then when I came home from aussie he was one of the first people knocking down my door to come and see me and give me a huge hug.  I spent a bit of time with him, he had told me they had split and said a few things which gave me a new perspective on the ex girlfriend. He was always a gentle soul, he hated drama, he loved honesty, which is why he and I got along so well. He was an amazing father even though that was something he had not wanted for himself in life, fatherhood. His ex had been treating him like shit, he was down but seemed to be coping. I even went and watched him play a few nights with his band. The guy was a brilliant musician, played everything by ear, couldn’t read music and my god he was good.

Then I got a phonecall at 8am on a Wednesday morning, half asleep I answered the call, “Speedy is dead mate, he hung himself in the bathroom last night”  …. I crumpled on the floor right then and there and cried my heart out. Disbelief, I wanted to wake up from a bad dream, but it was real. I spent the next few days numb, dealing with people and tracking down old friends, I was one of the “circle” so to speak so I was asked to help with bits and pieces regarding the funeral and getting people home to say goodbye. I kept busy, very busy so I didn’t have time to think. I spent the whole two or three weeks picking everyone else up, making sure they were okay, almost robotic, not wanting to deal with my own pain I took on everyone else’s.

It’s been a good nine months since he died, and every now and then I have a day where I am not quite right. Yesterday was one of them, I miss him alot. It’s hard to come to terms that I will never have a hug, a giggle, a random visit and a big fat spliff with him anymore. So I went for a long walk to clear my head, and then spent the afternoon gardening. It grounds me.

So emo moment is over … I was grieving and feeling sorry for myself which happens on occassion. And I miss my kitty family. It’s been such a wonderful two weeks and for once I actually enjoyed myself so much I forgot about all the crappy shit for a while and it was a nice feeling. Change is good.