So my friend Lyz called me the other night to tell me that her friend (also my distant friend) Sal had passed away from an intentional overdose of pills.

Yes. My old friend Sal, who was Mr. Happy-Go-Lucky, has had everything that seems to matter – TONS of friends, money, looks, a sweet ride, a house, stability – has taken life literally into his own hands and decided he wanted no part of it.

When I moved to Brooklyn I lost touch, basically, with that whole little clique. The last I heard from anyone besides Lyz, Chris was calling me stupid bitch and a slut for breaking up with my ex who was literally beating me. So you can see the warm feelings I might have had about going out there to the wake aren’t really there.

But before that, in the good old days, we used to sit around and drink and watch TV and eat and go to diners, and laugh. It was always pleasant. And I’m sitting here thinking…. Shit. Was it really that bad?

I know I am really insensitive about and things. And I’m trying to think of reasons not to be able to go. Yes, I’m evil. I am trying to think of excuses not to go to a funeral. I am a fuck of a person.

This guy used to let us sleep at his house, fed us out of his own fridge and I don’t want to go to his funeral. Not honor the life he lived. But I don’t want to go.

I don’t want to believe I am not invincible. I thought Sal was just as invincible as me. From what I allow myself to remember, he went through some of the same things I did. I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want to go.

I don’t want Sal to be dead. From pills. Alone in his bedroom. And he was so vibrant. Like just the kind of person you’d want to be around because he was so shiny that he’d reflect on everyone around him and make them brighter. I don’t know. I don’t know any of them for the last 6 or 7 years. God time flies.

I will be there tomorrow. I won’t stay long. Is it wrong to have the cab waiting for me outside? Why can’t I pay respects from my bathtub or something?

But I will go and I will pay my respects and I will buy a new dress and wear flats. God. No one looks forward to funerals.

Except the funeral parlor people…

  1. I’m sorry for the bad news. A lot of the time, it’s the people who you think have their life sorted who feel the least in-control, y’know? I used to feel like that, and my life’s pretty peachy. That sort of depression is usually down to a chemical imbalance in the brain, not one’s circumstances.

  2. Unfortunately I had to deal with this kind of feelings too. One of the greatest person from my church killed himself.
    I’m sorry for your lost. I have no words for it :(

  3. I’m so totally over death that with the exception of one or two people I don’t think I would really feel more than a slight bit of sorrow. I feel more sorry for the people they would leave behind than I would for them.

    And I feel almost NOTHING for anyone that kills themselves. Suicide is not an easy thing to do, but it’s not a fair way to say goodbye to the people that DO care for you.