from 2001.
~
he said the idea that lives do not belong, entirely, between people is absurd and concave and it crashes against the barriers of visions created in caves with dried blood. he knew he didn’t have his own without the pointless, hated world, that without each other we were vapour. we are the product of mindlessness and desperate communication — he told me that just before he jumped.
that fall was the fiercest thing i’d seen in him, his quiet life and sighs and old photographs. the way he shook that one offending digit at the camera and hurled his body off the roof’s edge, hurtling through space before he hit the pavement twenty-one stories below. i’m assuming he hit, i didn’t look, i dropped the camera to the ground and followed it, screaming inside my head that he was gone and terrible sad jealous because he’d done it with so much style.
he will find his strength in death...he’d written that on a scrap of paper days before. of course i took it for his melodrama. i didn’t look too closely, fighting at my own self’s secrets. wrong again.
today i watched the tape and the funniest most stabbing irony attacked me. i mean, i was torn into white shreds.
as i saw him smiling, teeth blazing white in the unreal blue sky, the green of his sweater shining — i didn’t just envy him, i didn’t just miss him. i saw the truth and it nearly broke me. i fell in love with him the second he found the courage to leap.
fuck.
.
