Sincerely, Mike

MARCH 13 2012

MARCH 13, 2012

Dear Billie,

Some would likely argue that writing you a letter at this point in your deterioration is absurd and purposeless.

But because I have a weird glimmer of hope buried deep somewhere in the depths of my otherwise pessimistic soul that these words will somehow find their way to you-whether that way be physically or verbally- I'm writing it anyway.

I can't believe it's come to this.

I cannot fucking believe it's come to them pulling the plug.

If it really, really does come down to that, you best believe I'll fight those fucking monsters to the death of me, but until then, all I can do is beg you to simply- for our sakes and your- keep on fighting for life.

Don't let these bastards be the ones to take it away from you.

As much as you may have disagreed...your life matters.

A lot.

That's...a bit of an understatement, actually.

I know you never saw that. But past, present, and future, that always has and always will hold true as fuck.

Perhaps this isn't the most opportune moment, but Trè and I talked...a lot...the other day. He told me a lot of really sad, personal shit about you.

I'll spare you the gory details to prevent any kind of war flashbacks, but in short...it shocked me beyond words.

I knew you'd had confidence issues. I knew you were having a lot of difficulty with seeing yourself as the excellent father you were and still are.

But...all the stuff about the hookers and the drinking and the bragging and the crippling fucking loneliness, the loss of the will to go on...

I never fucking knew it was that bad.

I never knew they all fed into each other.

I feel so fucking shitty for never talking to you about it, or never seeming open enough to encourage the kind of dialogue you apparently had with Trè.

I am so fucking sorry.

I can't believe those chicks did that to you. They made you feel so fucking inadequate and then left you to destroy yourself in your sadness and loneliness...

And I can't believe that I was either so oblivious or so indifferent that I didn't even take notice of how badly this was affecting you or the fact that we were- albeit unconsciously- somehow making you feel the need for overcompensation by bragging or overhyping yourself.

I can't believe I didn't see through it. I can't believe I couldn't see how much my best fucking friend was hurting for so, so long.

Somehow, you fooled me.

And I fucking hate myself for it.

Some 'best' friend I am.

I never meant to make you feel that way.

Ever.

But God knows a lot of the shitty things I've done to you haven't necessarily been actions but instead been gross failures to act.

I know it's a bit too much too late, but...you shouldn't ever feel the need to overcompensate around me, or Trè, or anyone...we're all equals, all buddies, all different pieces that come together to make a whole. I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like less than you are.

And just know that...whatever it was that happened between you and Spazzy's mom...it's alright. You won't ever have to talk about it if you don't want to, or if it makes you feel shitty.

And lastly...despite what all these complete fucking bitches tried to drill into your head, you have no reason to hate or be ashamed of yourself.

I know I've said it time and time again, but you, my friend, are a beautiful, amazing person.

The likes of which, quite frankly, the world has never seen.

Please.

Learn to see in yourself the same wonderful, loving, goofy, kind-hearted, talented, beautiful person the rest of the world knows and loves so dearly.

I know it seems like a lot. I know it may very well be an actual impossibility now. But please.

You're more than worth it.

I really, really miss you, Billie.

I miss your laugh, your shitty dad jokes, your hugs, your god-awful cooking (if we can even call it that...), your grandma-speed driving, your limitless kind-hearted good will and love.

I miss seeing you on that stage. I miss seeing you playing old Blue. I miss rolling my eyes at you when you'd forget the lyrics. I miss seeing you be goofy with Spazzy at home and in the studio.

We all do.

Your boy's still as much of a mess without you as ever. His birthday was an utter shitshow without you by his side.

He's becoming a bit too much for Trè to handle, and we're all getting worried.

Poor kid.

I know I've said it about a thousand times, but I'm telling you, Billie, if this isn't the most concrete proof that you are nowhere fucking near as bad a dad as you've always thought yourself to be, I don't know what the hell is.

He's a fucking wreck without you.

And it breaks my heart to think that these monsters want to take away any kind of slim chance he still has of being with you ever again.

It kills me to think that my own inability to act, as well as the monstrous indifference of your caretakers, are both partially to blame for the fact that your son may very well never see you again and grow up without any real memory of the earth-shattering and layers upon layers deep selfless love you have for him.

The thought of him growing up without you is...horrifying.

Goddamnit, Billie.

I fucking hate myself.

I really can't offer anything else at this point other than a most sincere apology.

I wish I could go back and fucking slap myself across the face, tell myself to wake the fuck up and do something about my dear friend as he spiraled out of control right before my eyes, but...

The damage is done.

I know we probably don't have a lot of time left.

And truth be told, there's worlds and worlds more I want to tell you.

But I'd hate to squander whatever time we have left with trivialities.

I am so incredibly sorry.

About everything.

Please just understand that much.

Rest easy, Billie Joe.

Sincerely,
Mike
-
The bitch is fucking back. School is done and over with so we are now back to our regular Sunday night update schedule! I'm actually really excited for the little that remains. It's going to be wild right down to the last second.

Hope you and your pack of kleenex are up for it.

~Jay