� No such thing � 2003-12-10 � 6:51 p.m. �
I am trying to write Christmas cards... I am not really sure what to say... things are as they are... people are dying... you know... life is as it usually is... it sucks balls.
Trying hard to grasp that festive moment... when I got to your name on this list... I sigh in thinking I wish I had another reason to spend a dollar on postage. I even bought this funny card I had in mind for you... it would have made you laugh... but I didn't know I was two days too late.
I am trying not to cry all day you know... trying to live like I would... pretending maybe that you didn't die... denying myself the right to grieve because I get to grieve too often I think...
I am slowly realizing that I am not what people see me as... certainly not what you saw me as... I wasn't ever as I should have been... true to you.
I mocked you the other night... well, you know I mocked you often... but this I regret... simply because what I said I knew wasn't true... and I know now exactly what is I miss... and I know now why I never let you go... why when you held on a little I held on with you.
I wish I knew every word you ever said about me... I wish I knew what you REALLY thought of me... beneath the colour for love... for money... beneath it all I wish I had your alphabet down... but who knows if anyone really knows. Who knows if you talked to anyone or if you kept all in peace. I think you probably did.
I thought you were crazy... and I wish you were standing tall enough to be crazy today... to run around the 7-11 wish me... buying stuff we never heard of... making ice machines go crazy... I wish for Overwaitea at 2 am... and the back room in the public library.... sneaking past my uncle at all hours as he vows he'll plead the fifth if I get caught...
It doesn't fucking feel like Christmas... I want to drink. I can feel you touch my cheek and breathe deep in disapproval... I can hear you beg me to my knees... by candles and inscents smelling of rotten women and weed... like a scene in a low-budget film...
That was us really... a low-budget film that wouldn't end... even with the reel burning.
And now... anything foreign to me will make me cry... Steve fucking Irwin is going to make me cry... and I hate that bastard... anything third eye blind... anything volkswagon... or burton or oakley... anything snow or fernie... anything opal... kinky... khaki... soft... diamonds.... salty or sweet... it will all break me...
As much as I resisted, I never forgot... as much I pulled... I was pushing too...
It's been a long life knowing you, baby... and it's going to be a longer life not...
Rest well.... and forget me not.
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