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Thoughts You Poor, Poor Boy - I am So Sorry

This is a true story about a suicide in my life in December 2021. pay respects here

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Joey

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Dec 22, 2015
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A ringworm splayed widespan as it edged x-ray tendrils outward to streoscopic insight. An inside gamma light in the corner of my eye. Just like a ringworm it looked.

I'd been absently looking toward a bright light for awhile. Something had swept my off the carpet of my life when you lost your own. Something made me stop and write this out for you, my friend Christopher.

The ringworm stayed in my brightened eye sight and is still here. It echoes black light out back to reverse my vision inside out, as if to chisel me down back to the end of your days. For now, while mine have continued unabated I imagine yours to be reflecting back at me in this sad trick of light.

I am so sorry, you poor, poor boy.

You did not deserve to end your life in a suicide while no one watched.

You did not deserve how you felt, and actually accurately (for the moment) that no one cared what you were doing.

You did not deserve to feel the grimy grip of 2 full bottles of prescription pills pull the shades down over your eyes. I am so sorry, Christopher.

I only hope that he, the true monster in your life who stalked and raped you so much earlier that he reappeared in every man you had a conflict with as a new rapist - I hope whoever that was. You managed to pull the shades down on him as well. So that he could spend even one 24 hour time cycle in the young, listless young man in his 20s he left for dead.

Who he truly left for dead for so many years prior to your curtain closure I don't even know how many ghosts might have inhabited your body by the end of it all. You had music dedicated to the theme and everything. You remind me of me.

You reminded me of me. And for that, you poor, poor boy. I am so sorry.

I can only hope that there is a sequel to this life which has it possible to deescalate these situations.
 
I have not the proper words to express how solemnly great this is. Sending love in whatever form might grace you.
 
This situation was so fucked up. We tried so hard to help him, whenever we could. Endless crashes and hospitalizations and skidding about without a clue what to do.

“Hey man…. Do you know where I could get someone beat up? He called the cops on me 70 times and I think he raped me…”

No. Sorry dude, I don’t know. ….So he drove off…

This man was on a downward spiral that I couldn’t believe when I watched it, except there it was. He really expressed how he wanted his dad to say things like “good job” and things like that.

The things is he said horrible things about him too, and the work he was working on when he said this to me was to wire up his motorcycle. He did do a pretty good job on that. ‘I can get away from cops easier now..’

Instead of paying the 2k he had on his license fees for his car he bought a bike. They’re a bit quicker and maneuver around piggy’s like faster… I’m making it seem silly because it was.

‘Hey dad! I was riding my buddies bike and I crashed going 200km/h! Am I hurt? Oh…. That scratch on my finger - that’s from something else!’

I argued with his dad quite a few times about paying some closer attention and the good ‘jobs’ and the ‘I love you’ stuff which seemed to matter. I guess I just clung on because he didn’t seem to be getting any help anywhere he went. He was absolutely about to til over the edge and I saw it coming.

You do actually need to be present at home without being belligerently screwed up in fiction land and actually do some dishes or something to earn that…. I guess.

His mom had him all wired up in her career criminal bullshit just he same as all of her kids. She was on video, viral actually with her 12 year old son stealing from a clothing donation bin.

My guy wound up having a biological son—>daughter with that woman and he always worked like hell and did everything he could to take care of them. They had vehicles, chances, more chances, a cool father figure - until he SNAPPED.

If you don’t like being teased for stealing a 100k credit card and therefore come back to steal your ‘dads’ truck, that’s the sign out.

Christopher had some pretty good work at some point. Something outdoors driving heavy utility shit. Than a girl. A baby. Meth. Maybe meth before. I don’t know.

Her parents took their two kids and he went back and forth with her for years. He lost his sense of reality. His body became more and more crippled after more crashes..

It was a really sad story, we’d be going out rescuing him and stuff sometimes and he was always just fucked up. Couldn’t get a clue. No amount of incarceration or hospitalization could get through to him… (I think no one looked into his real issue, and if they did then it might’ve been too late. It was his foster family)

My guy left him in the apartment toward the end of last year so he could stay awhile. He listened to loud, angry music. Metallish stuff. He was not supposed to use indoors and did. But this is just I was told. I guess I get that…

He suddenly took off to another city and he was with this new girl. One month and two bottles of psych meds later he was gone.

I wish I could’ve done something better.
 
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