"Where is my mind?"
Its been over two months since I wrote anything, which makes sense since my last post stated I was getting bored with the process. A lot has happened in those two months though and I may have benefitted from writing some of it here, I forgto my password though and was too lazy to reset it.
To start with I broke my arm in March and that caused a whirlwind of not so great moments. I had to withdraw from the end of the term at school, I couldn't use my arm, I was on some presricption narcotics for slightly under two weeks(at which point I'd had more than enough of the emptiness/frusteration the meds were causing and I took myself off of them), I couldn't work for three weeks, I was in a rut. People who I thought should be very sympathetic seemd to be havinag a hell of a time of assisting me in any way, shape or form. Perhaps that is a selfish thought, but as far as I'm concerned when the bad times roll around and people aren't there to help then that is lame.
Finally though my arm is healing, I am attempting to regain control.
Meanwhile, as I was physically suffering and doing my best to not let it get to me too much I was doing a lot of thinking about people, including myself, and the responsibilities we all have to one another. I lunched with an old roommate and inquired about a friend of his, one who I had much respect for.He hadn't been in touch with him for a little while and I called the fellow up after lunch was over.I recieved a message saying his voicemail box was full.I don't think I tried to call again.I figured he'd see my number on his phone and call if he fel tlike it. I figured maybe I'd swing by his work at some point to say hello.
A couple weeks ago I recieved a call informing me of his death.
We weren't close friends. We were roommates, briefly, through the circumstance that one of his close friends was my roommate at the time. He came tro visit once and wound up staying with us until the two of them moved out to an apt. of their own. My old roommate,D., eventually moved out and A., the fellow in question, stayed on. I learnt only the other day that he had another roommate, who moved out in January or February. He had his final moments in that apt. All signs point to suicide, though I suppose one can't tell for certain.
That is my mind wanting to make it an accident though, most likely. The fact that he didn't leave a note isn't exactly odd, but at the same time it fills the mind with unease. Why not say goodbye, to someone? Maybe he did. Maybe he made a phonecall or two before going, It seems though that no one had heard from him in a while. He did not attend the wedding of one of his closest friends, he did not return many phone calls. He went to work, he charmed customers with his caustic wit.He was self medicating with opiates.He was brilliant, and had had enough. Or he was in such pain and had to put a stop to it.Or he was confused by the world, tryingt o make sense of it, and not being able to. perhaps a combo of all these things, along with many other thoughts. The darkness that swells up like an ocean wave and knocks you over may have taken him. I do not know.
To me A.G. was a brilliant man. A sarcastic man. A man who didn't have many peers. Despite his sharp sense of humor that I greatly enjoyed I knew there were pained feelings. We discussed a few issues over the time I knew him, but we never got too deep. He wasn't the sort of guy who was going to pour his heart out to a roommate of circumstance. I should mention though that we'd discussed the act of suicide before, he'd lent me a couple of books I was interersted in reading, intelligent explorations on the topic. When I say "we never got too deep" I mean he only gave so much of his own experience in detail. I mean he did not cry out that he needed help. I mean he didn't look me in the eye and give me the feeling that one day he would opt out of life. At the time of that specific discussion perhaps he didn't feel that way.It was years ago afterall. He did however tell me some things about his life that were upsetting to him. That conversation probably exposed more of him to me than any other, though the last discussion we ever had did entail a certain amount of dissapointment with aspects of the world.I myself feel quite down at times, and I understand what its like to feel isolated, whether you actually are or not. So when I heard the news I wasn't shocked. I was disturbed. I was meloncholy. I was slightly numb.
I cried only a bit in the time before his wake. I cried at the wake, trying to dissapear from the scene by hiding in a corner.I cried the other day. I am tearing up now. I feel that somehow I have failed him, even though I know he certainly wouldn't have expected me of all people to be anyone who could've helped. I know this but it doesn't make me any less upset at his leaving the world behind.In general I am against suicide. My father killed himself. It is quite likely that one of my best friends killed himself(though there is no real way of knowing, he may have just slipped off that three story building).As mentioned in a previous entry another friend of mine has made more than one attempt at killing herself.I understand that the world is overwhelming at times. I understand there is a certain amount of mind malfunction associated with suicide. I understand that there is suffering and that one wants to not suffer.
I do not understand letting go of hope.
I wish we could alter events. I long to have swung by his work or apt , at least to let him know that someone was thinking of him, in the hopes that perhaps that would offer enough distraction to the inner complexities, enough to pull thoughts outwards. There is no going back though.
For a troubled man, for a man whose mind was in hyperdrive: rest in peace. You will be missed greatly by your friends, by your family, and even by those you hardly knew.
