billybillybilly

DISCLAIMER: THIS IS GOING TO BE A DEPRESSING FUCKING ENTRY. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

Doctor Jekkel and Mister Drunk.

They've been fighting a LOT lately. They've been making things difficult for everyone. There's someone else in there too, and he wants the fuck out.

Ever get the feeling, that no matter how much you talk about something, no matter how much you think about it or ask around for second and third and fourth and fifth etc. opinions you're right back where you started?

There's a problem and I can't pinpoint it. For the fucking life of me.

All I can think about lately is checking myself into a psych ward, but I'm not going to because I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THE PROBLEM IS.

* * * * *

On a completely unrelated note, (or is it? who knows...) I miss someone. It's time I finally write something about this.

When I was 15 years old (I think, it could have been towards the end of 14) my friend Nathan [16] died from Muscular Dystrophy. This was a boy who I was angry with a lot when we were very very small. My mom used to babysit him before school was ever a factor. Back in those days I preferred to be alone.

Always coming over (hoarding my stuff for himself, that's what I was always thinking) and my mom MADE me play with the kid. Sure he was a year older, which would normally mean that he was cooler, but he was funny looking and I didn't like him. I never said it to anyone, but I hated that he was always over.

Reason that was, was because I always wanted to do one thing and he wanted to do another, but since he was our "guest" (not that *I* fucking invited him) we always had to do what HE wanted.

He never brought any of his stuff. Always seeing what I had and eating my food and drinking all of my punch. And he loved playing with Legos. I hated Legos. I never had the patience to follow the directions, I'd just build something else for my G.I. Joes. Something cool.

There was this one day, and we were just running around the yard and I warmed him up to the idea of "hide and seek" (being the manipulative little bastard I was). Then I ditched him and went inside and made sure to stipulate that we couldn't hide inside the house because there were too many hiding spots and it wouldn't be fair to the person who was "it."

Nathan was "it."

I went outside later and I found him crying. I'd abandoned him and the poor guy probably thought I was never coming back. I watched him crying and at first I hated him for that too. He looked so weak and so frail. I couldn't watch. I just told him to stop crying and told him some lame excuse and made him promise not to tell our parents because I didn't want to get in trouble.

But he kept crying. There was no comfort in that either, so I decided to take him over to this mound of dirt we had out back by the barn.

We started digging and he was throwing the dirt around in a happy way that looking back on must have been entirely cute. And I didn't hate him for that. In fact my "hate" had mostly disappeared. He was having a good time, so was I. We made the most intricate tunnels and carved out spaces and we pretended we were building a hiding spot for something or other, maybe it was where we'd go if aliens came.

We ended up in school together, older and more controlled. We raced down the hall a lot. Nathan would always beat me and it was so fucking irritating that sometimes I would hit him for it.

Every time we raced I got closer. That was the point where losing didn't matter so much, because I thought that I was getting stronger or faster and one of these days I would win and THAT would show the little fucker.

The last time we ever raced was the first time I won.

Strangely enough, I didn't feel good about it. I raced across the line and yelled screaming ecstatic that I proved I was better and I exclaimed as much and I turned around and he was frowning, not gloating over past victories, not angry with me for my poor sportsmanship, just sad.

Nothing else, and no ill will.

I looked back the other direction and my mom was standing there and she had the stupid disproving look on her face and I was mad at EVERYONE for spoiling my victory. But she took me aside and explained to me that Nathan was sick. I already knew that.

I realized that he would never win me again. That it wasn't me who got faster, it was his body that was becoming slower.

*

Singing in the choir at his funeral was the first time I've broken down crying in public.

A crowd of people, the auditorium filled past capacity and his pale sunken body in the casket in front of me. Here I am singing and there are tears running down my face and my nose is red and running and my voice is cracking and I just want to fall over and everyone is watching and everyone else is crying too, but pride overtook me and I choked it back like my life depended on it. I did not let another tear fall on that platform. I was done with that. But back in the seat, I broke again and I let myself. It was just too much to take.

I was the only one who wasn't family that went in to visit him on a regular basis while he was in and out of the hospital. The only reason my visits became less frequent was because it seemed like his family didn't like me being there. They didn't put me in as a pall bearer, as opposed to at least two people who barely knew him other than who he was.

I miss him. I'm in tears right now, my face is red and there's tears everywhere, my nose is running. Closest I've gotten since that moment to crying publicly.

I used to visit his grave regularly. I was the only one who did. I've probably visited his grave more than his family.

In my life, I have hurt him more directly and indirectly than any friend I've ever had. I've made him cry, I've made fun of him in front of everyone and taken things from him excersizing power over someone who could NOT defend themselves. I laughed in his face about it.

And he never held it against me. Not one time.

I am a horrible person.

I deserve nothing I have.