Sincerely, Mike

MARCH 05 2012

MARCH 5, 2012
Or March 6- I don't really know what time it is and frankly I don't care

Dear Billie,

Today was easily one of, if not the, worst days of my life.

I was a fool for expecting it to be anything more than that.

I thought seeing you would fix all this. I thought for a brief, stupid second that maybe all of this would be over and done for if we could just have one fleeting moment together.

And technically speaking, we did.

But believe me when I say that when I looked into the lolled, lifeless eyes of the man lying on that hospital bed for the smallest fraction of a second, I saw anything but you.

The twisted memory of seeing you in that state is on constant replay in my head. I just can't get it out. It won't let me sleep, it won't let me eat, it won't let me be. It's seeped into every layer of my conscious, draining me.

I am my own worst enemy.

All my brilliant idea did was make everything worse.

For everyone.

As much as it fucking kills me to admit this...I'm starting to think that maybe Tré has a point to his "this is pointless" shpeele.

Granted, it's hard to stay optimistic around someone who's so overwhelmingly negative, chooses only to see my constant efforts to make contact as pointless mental and emotional gymnastics, and resorts to physically assaulting me when his belligerent mind can't handle a situation, but I had been steadfast in my belief in the fact that he was in the wrong up until today's incident.

That changed everything...completely.

Now I'm starting to rethink things. To see things differently.

And I can't say I like it very much.

But truth is never one to care about the approval of others.

I really, genuinely do not know if there's any point to continuing on with this. It's obviously going nowhere. It all only seems to get worse with every passing day, every other outreaching gesture. Everything is on a fast track towards crashing and burning in the shitter, and I don't think that there's really anything I or anyone else for that matter can do about it.

I'll stay rooting for you as always, because I love and believe in you more than life itself, but...all this effort is slowly sinking into the dark abyss of things in my life I'm no longer sure of the purpose or point of.

I really don't know. I'm not ready to completely give up yet, but...there was definitely some holes in my initial approach to all this.

There's a lot of crap obstructing my worldview right now. Maybe it's just the guilt and trauma talking at the moment, maybe I just need to sleep it off. Maybe I'll wake up in the morning and feel completely different about this whole thing.

And I really hope to God I do.

But in these roundabout games we tend to play, I've found that there's rarely room for miracles.

I'm rambling. I need sleep. My mind needs solace from the haunting visions firing upon it at all cylinders.

I don't really know what the point of this was. To reason it out with myself? To maintain the open, honest dialogue that at least alleviates a smidge of the overwhelming guilt I feel every second of the day? To continue a therapeutic practice?

I'm so utterly confused.

Fuck this.

The point- or rather the lack thereof- aside, I hope everything is alright.

I mean, as alright as it possibly can be.

You're missed. You're loved. You're wanted more and more with every passing day regardless of everything we can and can't do about it.

Remember that.

Sincerely,
Mike
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Short and kinda rambly chapter. Big things are coming. Sad things. But big. Stay tuned.
~Jay