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Understanding yourself, it's fun...

I was a tall, thin kid all the way through high school.  Hardly enough to notice, a nobody for the most part.  I was fairly proud, though.  I remember a friend asking me once, “Why do you walk so tall?”  I replied, “Do you see anybody pick on me?  It is walking tall and confident that keeps me out of trouble.”  I felt tall, too.  I’m sure I remember the doctor measuring me at six feet, so I proudly reported that every chance I got, every time I had to get a new license.  Oh, what a blow to my ego when a doctor’s visit found me to be 5’10”.  Did I shrink?  Was I wrong about how tall I thought I had always been?  It didn’t matter, I was not six feet.  Period.  It didn’t bother me for too long.  I reasoned it out.  I already feel that the majority of women I am attracted to are awfully short.  Of course, that is relative to whatever size I am, whether it is 6’ or 5’10”, and they still seem short.

I'm so pissed off at you right now

God damn it Brad! I just ran into JR and he told me. I'm so pissed off at you right now. How could you just go and waste such an amazing person? I know I've been distant for a while, but I always thought I could pop back into your life and laugh about the past with you. You've really gone and done it this time.  We were supposed to go out to sushi and speak bad Japanese. FUCK!

I guess we were never really close, but you've always meant a lot to me. I would have helped you in anyway that I could. I regret all the times I almost sent you post cards and didn't, or almost called and didn't. I regret not knowing about the funeral. This really sucks, Brad. It sucks really fucking bad.

a prayer from hope

chad's picture

Today is a stinger. Tappin my heart and pointing to to the sky. Hoping my internal voice is loud enough for you to hear. Praying the message is received. I hope your rest is sound my friend. I miss your ear. God, if you are there carry me to his side. Guide me by what i was taught. Lead me from his example. For in my friend i found beauty. I may not spell perfect and I may not type to perfection but in my friends presense i felt at home, and i miss that. Hear me Brad wherever you are, your message was received. God send me forth as the champion that has fallen. Let me stand by his example, achieve what he has guided me to.Survive what he has strengthened me for. Most of all god replenish him in my life. I miss his energy. I miss his stamp. Show me that you are able to create one in his likeness, cause i search for him and am dissapointed.

 

will miss you always my dearest friend

chad

Looking for information, I guess

I have this continuing need to do something. Everyday I must do something related to Brad. I do see that I go out of my way to prevent my wound from healing, I will admit it. I do not want to get better, I actually am afraid of getting better. Figure that one out.

Not sure what to title this...

Heather's picture

The other day I was in the subway and saw a man jump in front of the train to kill himself. He was just an average looking man... nothing outrageous or outstanding. He must have been standing 10-15 ft from me. And he was just waiting for the train with all the other after work commuters but he was waiting for a different reason. I remember looking over and seeing him and not really thinking anything about him. Now I have passing thoughts hinking if I had looked closer and seen some sort of sadness of hurt in his eyes or in his face maybe I could have helped him. Maybe I could have just told him something simple like... you matter or you are special... and he would have seen the light. I know thats stupid and in reality if I had said anything it probably would have just prolonged what he was doing or it wouldn't have changed anything. Then I get tp thinking about Brad maybe if I had tried harder to get ahold of him that day I could have heard something in his voice and talked him out of that last little bit. But its the same thing... as unfaithful as it sounds, it probably would have only prolonged the inevitable.

All is well....

All Is Well

Death is nothing at all,
I have only slipped into the next room
I am I and you are you
Whatever we were to each other, that we are still.
Call me by my old familiar name,
Speak to me in the easy way which you always used
Put no difference in your tone,
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow
Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was,
Let it be spoken without effect, without the trace of shadow on it.
Life means all that it ever meant.
It it the same as it ever was, there is unbroken continuity.
Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?
I am waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near,
Just around the corner.
All is well.

By Henry Scott Holland (1847-1918)
Canon of St Paul's Cathedral

One drink to remember, another to forget...

I was eating dinner with Melissa the other day and was having a mighty strong drink. I looked at her and said, “Drinking is not the same as it used to be. I feel so melancholy.” I’m sure you all know how, when you just want to make a statement, sometimes making the statement flips a switch on your emotions. Like when I just want to tell someone, “My mom walked in the room and, when she saw him, she felt peace.” I can be in complete control of my emotions, yet saying those words to someone can well up my eyes. So, I said to Melissa that drinking had changed and, as soon as I said I feel so melancholy, she watched my eyes fill. I just wanted to make a simple statement. Anyway, those who know me can tell when I have been drinking... “What’s up with P? He’s actually talking and smiling.” I am a very happy drunk. Ok, I was a very happy drunk. The mornings can be worse. I think the sugar crash from drinking is a strong depressant with me. Even without a hangover as we all know it, I can feel the most overwhelming sense of despair and hopelessne

It was only a dream...

It was only a dream, and it left me wholly unsatisfied in the morning. I still haven’t had a long breakdown that I know is coming, mostly just little punches in the gut. The longest are the days where I might have tears balanced in my eyes, yet they don’t fall on their own. Maybe too much salt in my diet creates a greater surface tension...

4th annual bike messenger prom... REALLY

Heather's picture

This makes me laugh and cry thinking about what Brad would have sported to this event he surely would have attended

4th annual bike messenger prom
Bottom Lounge, 1375 W Lake St 312-666-6775
THE RACE IS THE MAIN EVENT OF THIS WEEKENDS NORTH AMERICAN CYCLE COURIER CHAMPIONSHIP. HOWEVER, THE WACKY PROM - DURING WHICH MESSENGERS SPORT THEIR FINEST VINTAGE TUXES, DRESSES, AND THE OCCASIONAL BANANA COSTUME - IS WITHOUT A DOUBT THE PABST- FUELED SOCIAL APEX. 8PM - 2AM, $15.

Each passing day

Each passing day sucks. I despise the passing of each day. I can't stand the thought of each day that goes by, puts me farther away from my life with him. The life when I had my brother, my mother had her son. I don't like this distance, not at all. I all out sobbed today when I saw the corner of the picture I keep in my truck was curling. The marks that time is leaving. The dust that was on the keys of his computer. The idea that there will be no more phonecalls, no more crude comments, no more visits, no more anything. Just tears. I miss you so much, I cannot stand it. I will find a way to talk to you, I love you little brother, I always did, I pray you knew.

Kris, less one

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