Fuck April

I hope that by posting this blog I do not offend my dear friend Adam C in any way. I hope that my feelings do not infringe upon him. But here is my heart on paper, yet again:

April is a bull shit month. The first April years ago, it must be 3 now, I made a decision to put cocaine regularly out of my life. I saw what it was doing to me, and to those I cared about, especially the one I loved at that point. And when my love couldn't do the same he found another girl eager and willing to go down that path with him. Then I lost him, again. It hurt the worst of any of the times he'd strayed, or we'd broken up for a short time. She was vicious, and that was the hardest for me to deal with.
By the next April we were together again and living a semi normal life. He'd take my car to work and then come home. We'd watch tv and eat together, or have a night out depending. He was still impossible to get ahold of, and there were doubts in my mind about an old high school "friend" who was a little too flirty, even in front of me. But there was a show I was dying to see, and Chris promised to go. He knew it was important to me.

The night of the Sacha Sacket show arrived and just before he took the stage my phone rang. It was my dear friend James. We had spent a lot of time together that previous summer with Adam (not the proper stranger), and Michelle. We did many things together. Adam and I had grown rather close. He'd teach me Russian, He'd play Bach for me. We'd watch movies and talk about exploring other lands. He liked computer games, and had good taste. He'd been married, and had a hell of a last relationship but he was always willing to be open and talk. So when James called and told me Adam was in the hospital I took a breath in. When James said Adam wouldn't make it through the night I nearly dropped the phone. Sometime soon after, on a gorgeous April afternoon I went to his memorial. The cancer had gotten him. I'd beaten it, but the cancer had taken him.

Soon after at the end of April my love left me too. And I made my mind up that I was going home then, no matter the cost. Plans were set in motion for my return to Seattle. The memories and the pungent smell of loss were too much for my heart to handle.

Through Chris I met Adam, and through Adam I met Belle. Belle wrote to me on myspace, and requested to be my friend. Belle was honest. Sweet. She had an amazing heart looking out for Adam constantly. We kept in touch through emails, and I'd hear about what she was doing from her blog on myspace. Then Belle got sick. I felt helpless for both Belle, and Adam. What could I do? Belle lived in Pennsylvania. I wrote, and watched helplessly as time went on, and Belle finally came to rest early Saint Patty's day. When I read the news I was alone. In my room. And I cried.

Matt was a different story. I met Matt on the day I often refer to as the best day of my life. We had been planning a huge roll party. The first one I got to participate in. (I believe this was April too actually, though I'm not entirely sure.) That night I met Matt and Aime, and got to know everyone else well. We were rolling balls and high as fuck that evening. The love was thick, like being shrouded in a thick cloud of friends. Then Chris finally told me he loved me. Anyway, Matt and Aime were so sweet to me. It was a night to remember.
Matt came out to some of the "Almost Never" shows and even when Chris and I were going through a hard patch or broken up completely he and Aime were always awesome to me.
So when Adam sent me the text the other night again letting me know that Matt was on life support my heart broke. I couldn't believe it was happening again. Matt had taken too much of something to sleep. Something I had done myself, many times, once managing to take myself out. Again I sat there alone. No one to talk to about it because nobody here relates to it, or knows him. I texted Johnny and he sent a message back.
Death always throws me man. My Dad says so many of my friends have passed because I know so many people. But even at that... No one's seen me cry about it. No one's asking me how I am. For the record I'm ok, and really people should be asking Adam. But I'll drink away the pain as usual.

I'm aware that one night, not too far from now, I could not be able to sleep, and mix myself up a lethal cocktail of whatever I have on hand. And that thought alone makes me sad and frustrated. Why can't they figure out what's wrong with the sleep initially? I know it's dangerous!!! But there has to be a better way! People fucking die from this! When Heath Ledger's death happened I was a mess. I saw it coming for myself. Matt's death brings up pain for me, on many different levels.

I look at Johnny every fucking day while he's sleeping and pray that we have more time together. I watch him as he plays video games and I wonder if this will be the last day? I hate feeling so on edge all the time. And ps- nobody has asked me ONCE how I feel about the diagnosis. Not someone I don't need to lie and stay on the positive side with.

Here's the truth: It sucks. I'm in pain CONSTANTLY and I feel like I also complain constantly about how sick I feel. I bet that gets irritating. I wish there was someone I could just sit across from at the bar and talk until I'm blue about it and get it out of my system. I'm gunna be 26 in a matter of weeks here. Maybe that seems young, but when your time gets shortened... I really should write out my wishes in the case of an accidental o.d or a complication due to being sick. But that thought depresses me.

This week has been hell man, and like I said the universe has it out for me right now I think. Besides, it's Sunday which means it's Johnny's weekend away from me. So it's my alone time too. I pick up my friend Powder from the airport tomorrow, so if the entries are sparse this week, that's why. But I'm here, loving you all, coping, and I'll try to go back to being myself soon. ;)