How to say goodbye to friends who aren’t dead (But should be)

Stock photo

Stock photo

I might have had a childhood rotten enough to make Nietzsche take note, and my late 20’s were no picnic either- however, my late teens and early 20’s, in retrospect, were pretty amazing.  Most of this time (when I wasn’t working any number of jobs) was spent either in the woods or one of my friends’ homes.  I played DnD, I lived in 5 different states, I once helped to  throw a halloween party so epic glitter was STILL being found in odd places for months later.  I have many of the same people in my life now, stretched by the thin string called “acquaintance” as we all ended up in random places all over the country (and world).  Overall, I’ve become a loner, and that’s okay-  I used to be a gypsy wanderer, but ending up a married hermit is better than being in bad company.

Some friends still hang in there, like Brian and Dan-  they think I’m nuts.  Which is wonderful.   There are people I talk to in California who I speak to more often than people who live here in Pennsylvania.  Some people I was intensely close to I have no idea what the fuck happened to, some people were friends of convenience (such as coworkers) that as soon as the confined closeness had ended, there was really nothing we had in common.

There are a couple of dead folks, a couple of people who I grew apart from- but overall what this post is about is, what happens when you have great memories of what someone USED to be like and they made enough decisions that they can NEVER go back to being so cool again?

Never again will there be a bongo-kazoo concert at 3am in a Redner’s parking lot- nor will there be sacrifices of cookie dough as we did ridiculous Lokian-esque rituals based on a poorly worded church billboards.

Sometimes, you wake up and you realize:  “Shit, my once friend is now a shit head drug addled loser and his train is never coming back to friend-town” and I have had to make this realization more than once.

(The even worse realization to make is “Shit, I’m being used as the object of some perverted fantasy world and this asshole needs to have his intestines wrapped around the outside of his body to serve as a warning that he is a freak-pervert with serious mental issues and should be avoided by everyone.”  )

Luckily for me, scenario numero uno happens much more frequently….the second scenario happens just enough to be unnerving, however, marriage nullifies it enough to keep the creepers away. (C’mon people, I’m not even an “8” on the hotness scale.  Find better.)

Sooooooo, anyway, today, like a few other days in my distant past, I decided to think and honor all the good memories of the person in question before he made decisions he can’t reverse.

There are many ways you can fuck up in life, here are a few where there are no coming back from:

1. Sudden drug addiction late in life (if you fucked around a little as a teenager- understandable.  Crack head at 30-ish? W.T.F.)
2. Trapped by pregnancy by a bad woman.  I am pro choice.  Some of those choices include a staircase, a falcon punch, or signing off parental rights.
3. Complete loss of discernment of right from wrong.  I am pretty flexible in rules, here.  Things that Christians consider evil, I consider “Tuesday” for the most part…however, things such as chronic lying, animal abuse, cheating on a spouse without being roofied,keeping someone enslaved (no such thing as a willing slave, the best you are going to get there is someone with severe psyche issues which you will exacerbate), or just plain being a miserable prick who can’t accept responsibility for their own decisions.
4. Sociopathy

So, look- I don’t care if you are a polyamorous drunk with a fiancee who you cheat as much as possible. First, If you ain’t married, and you aren’t kicking puppies, I don’t care.   When that fiancee of several years welds a collar to your neck, declares she’s pregnant, and then you pick up a job with Merck vivisecting puppies, chances are we won’t exactly be on speaking terms beyond me looking at you and saying “What the fuck is wrong with you, you ball-less sack of shit?”

The instance I am talking about in THIS case is a friend from high school who hooked up with a crackhead once night stand, tried to dump her, lacked the balls, got cheated on by her, lacked the balls again to kick her out, then not only did she get knocked up, but he decided to join her in her drug use.

*golf clap*

Wow….. just….wow.   You were only 2-4 classes away from a degree as an engineer, even I was able to pull two degrees out of my asshole in the last 15 years and I’m fucking crazy.  You bought a house in ill repair you couldn’t afford, and then, instead of ditching the house and finding freedom, you found yourself a hoe who gave it up to your other friends and begged for more.  They thought they were doing you a favor.  You still didn’t dump her.  I can only assume she gave you Syphilis.  That is the only thing that can fuck with your brain that badly considering how much you bitched about her, and really, on a scale of 1-10- she was a SOLID 4.5 on a good day even not counting the mental instability

I’m kind of a jumble of emotions but mostly I’m revolted.

See, this is offensive because this person was once marvelously talented as an artist and a thinker.  He could draw things I couldn’t even THINK of,  Someone who although was off the wall ADHD he made it work for him most of the time, he had cycles of miserableness that rivaled the orbit of Jupiter, but usually, he would come around from it and be happy.  Instead, this time around, he looked at us, all his long time friends, and claimed that we all lived “perfect” lives and despised us for it when it was his own lack of courage or personal responsibility that prevented him from fixing his own life.

When I moved to Reading, I looked forward to spending more time with my old friend, only to find that my old friend’s new friends were nothing more than inbred crackheads I met once, which was more than enough for me.  I remember CONSECRATING THE LAND OF HIS HOUSE for ritual before all this insanity….I remember the giant burning Othalla which broke down at the top to turn into a hysterical burning “X” which likely scared off every passing vehicle.  Who the fuck has a burning “X” in their yard? THAT guy.  And it was awesome.

However, I also remember having to get his cat down from the rafters repeatedly and wash her because he wouldn’t take care of her.  I remember him yelling and beating his dog which I found for him and regretted ever since.  And, damn, man….when did you just wake up one day brother and learn to SUCK?

Also, I should also remind the audience reading this particular blog post that mentally I see myself as neither male or female….but as a sort of gender-neutral voice.  I never had an interest in the guy- he was my buddy- we had a real sort of “I love to hate you” sibling relationship at times where he would insist my problems were easy to solve.

Well, they aren’t easy to solve- but damn, man, at least I don’t Try to make new ones.

Sometimes, a blog post needs to be a little personal- sometimes, you need to vent and you need to mourn- loss is a confusing thing when it finally hits you…. you don’t cry, you just kind of shake your head and get a little pissed off at the world; I’m just shaking my head and going “Damn. WTF”  You and I studied so many different religions and had the most cosmic conversations….and now for the next 18 some years most likely, if not longer, you are dead to the metaphysical world in which we both lived.

How did you manage to fuck up so damn badly?  Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck, I ended up on SSD when I started to lose my shit- if your mental state was in such a state of crisis to allow this trainwreck to happen, seriously, a good 10 days in Reading hospital’s psyche wing could have helped you a lot. (hindsight ever perfect)

So, word to the wise here- if you see a friend in mental distress, try a little harder than I did to get them help before they fuck up permanently.

You can bounce back from ALMOST anything.  But not everything.

Damn.  Why’d you have to go and do that?


2 Responses to “How to say goodbye to friends who aren’t dead (But should be)”

  1. Meth almost ruined my stepbrother’s life too. He was becoming like your old friend you just described, but he got help and there’s no comparison to who he was then. I’m sorry this happened:(

  2. The local community feels the loss of him, and resents what has taken his place, sadly.

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