David

Ok, so I just took a look at some past entries on here. In the last four entries, I mention that life sucks and that I'm not in the mood to talk about, but I promise to update. And I haven't been, so sorry.

In this entry, I said that life was getting kind of hectic. I don't really know what caused it- but I just started freaking out a lot then. Like little things would get blown out of proportion in my head. Or stress would seem too much to handle. And I'd find myself over and over again, just laying in bed and staring at the wall all day. Or sitting around the house all night watching the discovery channel, crying and feeling alone, then sleeping all of the next day. I spent three whole days and nights without ever going outside or answering the phone. That's when I decided it needed to end. I needed to get my head on straight and stop being so mopey. And I decided that if I didn't like what was going on in life, that I should change it. So I did.

I quit my job, went on a weekend road trip for some solidarity, then painted a bunch of walls (and my bedroom ceiling) in the house. It was great. I felt so free and creative. Like I had complete control over my life again.

My friends had been so worried- calling me all the time (I just unplugged the phones), and stopping by (but I wouldn't answer the door). When I finally reappeared, I started spending a lot more time with everyone. I think I went two weeks straight where every single night I went out (to a club or coffee shop).

One of those nights, I met David.

Holding her hair back, so she wouldn't get vomit on it, a friend and I were standing in the alley next to a club.

"I think those last few whiskey sours were a bad idea."

"ugh..." *puke puke puke*

She wiped her bottom lip off with the back of her hand, and I handed her my bottle of water and a stick of gum.

"Thanks. Eww, I feel so gross. You didn't have to leave with me, you know."

"I know. But I wasn't going to let you stumble home alone and get molested by some stranger!"

"Thanks."

"...yeah. Besides, that dj sucked anyway."

She smiled and punched me on the arm.

We started the long trek back to her apartment because my car was there, and we had no other ride. We only got about two blocks when a little black jetta pulled up next to us.

The window rolled down to reveal the kind face. He had short, messy, dark hair, big dark eyes, and beautiful lips with a hoop adorned on the bottom right one.

"Do you two need a ride?"

I hopped in the front seat, and my poor sick friend crawled in back.

"Hi, my name's David."

"Hi, I'm Damien."

"Hi, I'm sick," came from the back seat.

I pointed in the direction of her apartment, which was about fifteen blocks ahead.

David and I had a nice conversation on the drive. He was just so easy to talk to. Like the way he calmly said things, and how when he asked questions, he seemed actually interested- not just making small talk. I felt so at ease with him, like talking to a good friend.

We pulled up to my friend's apartment. She said she was tired and wanted to crash, but that she felt better and didn't need me to stay. So I walked her to the door and made sure she got in ok.

I walked back to David's car a hopped in again.

"So what are your plans for the rest of the night?"

"Nothing," I sighed.

"Well, can I take you out to coffee?"

I smiled. "That would be nice."

We went to a 24-hour coffee place that I had never been to. It reminded me of the old punk-rock cafe that I used to go to in high school. He said that it had opened only a month ago, but was already very popular for its all ages shows.

We talked and talked and talked. Pitcher after pitcher of coffee, and cigarette after cigarette, the hours flew by.

He talked about a harsh break-up that had just happened with him and his boy only a week prior. They had been together for two years, but things had changed. David had changed, and that caused conflict. He said all they did was fight now, and that the ex was so possessive, that he actually started to scare David.

I talked about my shitty rut where I just wanted to disappear for a while. He just smiled and nodded, and said, "We all need to do that once in a while. Take a break from life."

By the time the sun started to peak through the front window, we weren't saying much to each other. We didn't need to. We just lounged in the big chairs and listened to the good music being played. I have no idea how I was so relaxed after having so much coffee. But I just felt so peaceful and nice.

He dropped me off at my car. Said, "We should do this again." I smiled and nodded. Gave him a kiss and wrote down my number.

He called me the next night. Wondered what was going on. I said, "I think you're coming over, and we're going to watch a movie." He said he didn't think anything could beat that. I gave him directions, and in a half-hour, he was here with take-out Chinese and a bottle of wine.

It's like everything was falling into place. Like everything was happening because it had to. It was so perfect. He was so perfect.

For the next couple weeks, we were inseparable. He met all of my friends (who loved him instantly) and I met all of his (who are so cool). Everything just cliqued between us. We kept finding things we had in common. Every moment I spent with him was better than the last.

We never said anything to each other about making us "official." We didn't have to. We just were. And it was nice.

It was a month since that first night we met. He called and said he'd be over in an hour. It was 7pm then. At 9pm, he called me. He sounded quiet and shaken up. Like he had just been crying. He told me that he wouldn't be able to come over. That his ex had called soon after he got off the phone with me, and they had talked until now. He had to go over there and talk to him in person, because he was worried about him. He said his ex was freaking out. That he was cranked out and was talking about suicide.

I told him I understood. That I knew that he had to go over and make sure his ex was all right. Bring him to a hospital if needed. I said to call me when everything was over. Even if it wasn't until the next morning. I just wanted to know it went ok.

So I hung up the phone and put in a movie. I was really tired anyway, so I planned on falling asleep in front of the TV.

I woke up, still lying on the couch, at 5am. The phone was ringing, so I smiled because I knew it was him. I knew he would say he had a rough night, and that we should go out for breakfast.

I reached over and picked up the phone. It wasn't him. It was one of his friends. The shaking voice sent chills down my spine and tears down my face.

I couldn't believe it. It wasn't happening. It couldn't be real. Things like this just don't happen. Only in movies and on TV.

The police said the gun went off in a struggle. David was trying to get it out of the hands of his drugged-up ex. David was trying to prevent him from hurting himself. I guess his ex's hand slipped and hit the trigger, sending a bullet through David's chest.

The neighbors that lived next door to the ex called the police when they heard the shot. The officers were on the way when the second shot was fired.

Both bodies were found on the living room floor. On the table was a bloody note that had some scribbled words saying he didn't mean for the gun to kill David. That he was trying to kill himself. I guess he got what he wanted in the end. It's too bad he had to take my David with him though.

So now you know why I said "Sometimes, when horrible things happen in life, you really get a new perspective on everything. It's like, all of the little things become so minute, that they don't seem to exist," in this entry.

For a while after that, nothing mattered to me at all. Again, I didn't leave the house. Because the world was shit to me. And it's really hard to get out of that. It's still really hard. Even when I think that I'm doing better, something will remind me of him. Of us. And I'll get way down again. I'll lie in bed and stare at the wall. The tears don't even come anymore, because they can't. I feel so bad sometimes that I can't feel anything at all.

But like I said. I'm doing better. And I'm looking up. And life will go on, and I plan on going with it. I hadn't been to a psychiatrist since I was younger, but it's good. Even though I sometimes don't believe in their work, it really helps.

So I'm still here. And I'm going to update again. Because things can't stay like this forever. It's time to move on.

 2002-04-28 - 4:37 p.m.

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