a person effectively claims for herself.
more than any other today. you’re somehow supposed to be there with us. this should bring us closer. it’s supposed to happen with you, not for you. Yesterday, your name turned to mush in my mouth. You know when you say a word so much it ceases to have any discernible meaning? I hadn’t even realized how many times I’d said your name to myself until that happened. is this the story you wanted told? did you think that far? I can say it over and over and over, but it feels like I’m describing the last episode of a TV show, distant.
I guess I accept it in some capacity. I haven’t been able to look at our text thread since I found out. But the thought of deleting it earlier gave me anxiety that I couldn’t rationalize. Obviously clinging to what I have left of you.
But what did you want? I want to be happy if you’re at peace, I want to be angry if you were in pain. One way or the other, either is better than not knowing.
I feel bad for feeling slightly annoyed with everyone who’s trying to do things “for” you…it’s funny how protective I feel over your memory, how attached I am to this idea of you as my friend, or that its my job to do whats right. Not that I even spent the most time with you, but of what we shared, it was spent well and never superficial.
can I tell you that? did you know it?
I love you.
I think that was clear.
to the square peg not meant for the round hole. everything that kept you alive were the things we did that defied the “norm”. Mark thrived on his friendships and the community we built. In that time we created the alternative world that is possible, and that was a place that a spirit like Mark’s could live. for the beautiful soul, too gentle for this hard pressed and disconnected world. Here’s to keeping alive that heaven, where we all can live.
I love you Mark.
I’m sorry we let you down.
"dude, it’s so early."