Bloom.

To Jon

When I heard that Jon had killed himself,
I let out a terrifying, guttural sound.
I didn't recognise the pain.

Jon and I were no longer close.
Jon and I rarely talked.
But there was a time when Jon came to me because I was separate,
disconnected from his other life and other friends.

Jon and I talked about the universe,
about love,
about music,
about loss.

Jon and I talked about his sadness,
his heart,
his home,
his drugs.

Jon and I drifted,
we sailed.
I was busy,
he was busy.

Jon is different now.

Jon is talking about the FBI in Finland.
Jon is talking about his father,
his father wants to kill him,
the FBI wants to kill his father,
Jon wants to kill the doubt,
Jon wants to kill the non-believers,
Jon wants to kill,
Jon wants to kill,
Jon wants to kill,
Jon wants to kill himself.

The government is hiding a conspiracy from us, Yasmin.
The government is corrupt, the government is coming for me, Yasmin.
I've gotta get out of this country, Yasmin.
They put me in the psych ward Yasmin, fuck.
You've got to help me, Yasmin.
You're the only one who can help me, Yasmin.
You're the only one who believes me, Yasmin.

Jon is different now.

I wish I could say he smoked too much weed.
I wish I could say it was a bad trip.
I wish the psychosis wasn't permanent.
I wish Jon talked to me more.
I wish I still had the messages.
I wish I still heard his guitar.
I wish I still heard him singing.
I wish I had something left from Jon.
I wish Jon hadn't left.

Suicide is a ripple.
It touches absolutely everyone.
Jon's death rippled from Europe and knocked me over.

When I heard that Jon had killed himself,
I refused to let him die.
He is loved, still.
He is loved 14,000 kilometres away.
He is alive in my memory,
In Jacob's memory,
In our memory.
He is alive.
And I love him.