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Dude, after all this bawling over your death, it has become pretty acidly clear that your net persona has borrowed far too many elements from my own uncalculated projection. No wonder why you reacted like a methed-out testmonkey when I happened upon your SG entries in my history log. Bah.

I don't begrudge you, though. You've changed me just as much. But I'd never - ever - take a picture like the one to the left, even in irony. At your funeral, we all made fun of the way you dressed. A lot.

I hope you're currently flowing through the ether and are reading this, like a loa. When you died, my router packed up. A few days later, however, it started working again.

But I wake up after a night of very vivid dreams and the router's fukt again. You're in the internet, I know. And so I have a place for you to live: http://www.pavelisdead.com. We'll try to honor your memory as much as possible the only way you'd want us to. And you know how.

We love you.

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This whole 'internet persona' thing is something I couldn't ever understand nor come to terms with. Maybe I simply project onto you, Pawel - and you adapt and worm your way into my heart like a small, wet kitten mewling outside my front door. shiverling in the rain. Of course I will take you in. But you are SO MUCH BETTER THAN ALL OF THIS. Any of you who respect Pawel for his stonkingly pathetically pretentious 'internet persona' are...fucked.

I believe in Pawel more than anyone I know - perhaps I couldn't give him everything he needed. What he really needed was the fundamental psychological transofmration afforded to people when they grow up and move away from their parents. But not him; no, Pawel wanted to stay in the womb. In fact, I believe he stayed in there for 10 months to a year. They had to coax him out. Induce labor. Pawel's serious when he said he was upset about them cutting the umbilical and not even asking.

I blame myself, a lot, for Pawel becomig this way. This fake persoanlity - shit, none of you know him. He'll put on a happy face, but we all know - he died months ago.

Plenty of things make Pawel happy and sad - Pawel was truly the most intense person I've ever known. But...WHY. Why this bullshit persona, Pawel - this is not you. And it's something you tried to hide from me. I remember finding this on my computer and your almost-concealed embarrassment that I found it. An outlet, I dunno. Finding yourself, a necessary evil. But I saw right into your soul and you are SO MUCH BETTER THAN ALL OF THIS.

Everyone recovers from a swan dive - even you. Deep into the depths of your own desperate, poorly composed, borrowed-ego-projection. Is this what you thought it would take? This emptyness, this childish fakeness? Ah, help me understand.

You could not respect yourself even less. Is this why - in the end - you just let go?

But even as you are a part of me that no-one will ever understand, you have your parts that I will never undrstand. And I guess I should accept them.

For I found you washed up on the shore, broken and defeated. I took you in, I washed you off. You stole my heart, every last beat. I don't know what to think.

And now here you are, haunting me forever, Pawel.

And you guys thought "this guy" with his everso ironic photograph - with sarcasm to match - was so cool. And if it's this kind of person he really wants to be, then so be it. But his true esssence - his soul, which burned so brightly underneath this self-imposed, jaded veneer - outshone everyone and everything.

I know.

He just needed a little more time.

From irina

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Googlism.com and I agree on this key point:

pav is not just a tire.

...

Don't forget it.

From ash

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Pavlov is a neccessity ... if I didnt talk to him for at least 20 minutes twice a week, my stomach would not get the abdominal workout it needed and therefor I would become FAT and gross and get kicked off the site. Pav and me, we go way back. To when I would sell him drugs and hookers on Dale Mabry in the heart of TAMPA mother fuckin bay. He will deny it, but it doesnt make it true.
Pav ... I love you. You are mY HERO. smile