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MULTITASKER GIRL LIVES THE WORST JOKE EVER
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Thursday, January 11, 2007
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WARNING: This won’t make sense, it won’t be chronological, I’m drunk and I’m so lost!
What? Where do I start? At work text messaging Mr. Dreamy. Having the best time ever, because I have so much to talk about and I love talking. I woke up from the best dream, thinking “I’m so god damn lucky everything just happens for me for no reason. Regardless of how I fucked I think I might be.” Yeah, that’s me. Things just happen.
I go out to drink with Brandon. No concerns. Just the megatouch games and pool. I am me. I am always me. I’m happy and carefree, right? That’s who I’m supposed to be. I mean, what else? I’ve lived the most sheltered life. If not for all my fuck ups I would be picket fence white. Despite of all my fuck ups I am still treated as picket fence white.
I am the fakest person alive.
How fragile is life? How fucked up can it get? Do you know who I think of when I think of death? My great aunt. The one that died the year I was born. The one that I think kept haunting me in the Philippines. Only ‘coz she wanted to see me. Some guy whose funeral my mom brought me to. Me and her coworkers nephew tried to see the body but I chickened out and closed my eyes and ran. My great grandfather. Died 2 years after we moved to America. Probably still my biggest hero, and still the coolest old man ever.
A suicide from a friend, I always thought of as a choice. And everyone gets a choice, I’m no hypocrite, I’ve thought of it too.
So tonight I was there. Drinking. Trying to pretend. I am lucky me. No one can cry around me, and if you see me cry you better forget it fast. I am having, supposedly, the time of my life. That is the front. Tell me, really, how many of you buy it? How many of you don’t notice me checking my phone every 5 minutes? Looking around while you tell your jokes? Do I really look like I want to be there?
Nearing last call and close to trashed, Bobby decides to swagger by. Tells me TJ is dead. Been on life support all weekend and Monday the plug was pulled. It’s a joke! It better be. I have his eyeglasses in my car. He seemed just fine. This is a fucking joke. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to act. I just shut down. I don’t know dead people. I’m afraid of the dark. I hold my breath when I drive by cemeteries. I have his fucking glasses. And I am the worst person in the world because he liked me. He told me he wanted to change because of me. He kept telling me everything that was going on and I didn’t care. I was so lost in my own problems, and I didn’t care. And I spent New Year’s Eve with him and I blew him off. And I didn’t care. But I didn’t know. But if I knew would it have changed?
But it doesn’t matter, because it’s a joke. I called him, and I left a message and I told him to call me back to get his fucking glasses. Because I can’t handle this. What if it’s true? And being around me he got my bad luck and Bobby says it was a heart failure. I think that was mine. If anybody’s heart has failed them, it would be mine. It’s gotta be some fucking joke. Bobby gave me a time and a date and a place for the funeral but it’s a joke. TJ will call tomorrow, and I’ll curse them both. It’s a joke.
If it’s not I can’t handle it. It won’t be funny. God is not funny. But I’m crying for no reason, because it’s a joke. I don’t know dead people. It doesn’t happen. Not to me. And who am I crying for? How many times have I wished I was dead? But if it was me, how many peoples lives would be so much better? And if it’s him, how many lives are for the worse? Maybe …. Well, it’s not true. It’s a joke. I’ll tell you. I’ll be back tomorrow morning, and he’d have called by then. It’s a joke. |
posted by Jenni @ 3:42 AM  |
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