The Killing Moon

A [Positive] Letter to Tiffany

(In reaction to coming across a blog post she had dedicated to me back in ‘08, that I never read until now.)

writing this ish just a lil late lolz…finding that journal entry tonight was a real “treat” if i do say so myself…okay, i’m just letting the words pour out of me….currently listening to the prayer, which you WISELY showed me……….and yes, you are always right :D i definitely see that now, yezzir. i miss you “TO THE MOON AND BACK” if that even makes sense (pretty sure it does. black swan reference yo!). i quite honestly don’t know what to say…i guess my jemaine witisims aren’t as frequent as they used to be. or maybe i’m just lacking confidence. you’d always get oh so annoyed when id go into bouts of self-loathing darkness. god i can be so melodramatic when i wanna be. hah. oh my. you know, i really don’t think i’ve changed. i still embody that apatow-brand charm. the emma stone (does annoying lisp) sort of humorous swagger. yezzzir. that last line of the journal entry where you stated that the friends worth keeping are always around…something tells me that still applies. there is no boundary between the physical and spiritual realm. you’re still here. and now YOU’RE the one who’s “watching my ass” (sarge voice) lol luv ya gUrL. you know what’s annoying? WE came up with that shit before everyone else started doing it! we were fuckin’ mavericks, dude. everybody got they style from us. yeah we were the orinigal chiddy-style trend-setting badasses. god, we were the duo. what a vicious twosome we made. BFFFs. P.I.C.S <— (girls next door reference ftw! shoutout to KDUB!!!!!!!) anyway, i miss everything about you. even that phase where you avidly listened to taylor swift and rocked ed hardy gear—- yeah i fuckin’ miss that too. so much. more than you could ever know. or maybe you do know? fuck! (paul rudd voice) hahaha oh man. you gotta stay by my side. i know you loved me, and i remember now, that that love is, has, will always be there. thank you for believing in me. you truly allowed me to be myself and completely accepted and loved me as a human being. you were my biggest fan, and never failed to bring out the best in me. you inspired me to keep the wit flowing, to always strive to be my best.

 i have aged myself so much since you died and cannot keep doing this to myself. i know you don’t want me to live this way. this year has been the strangest, darkest chapter of my life thus far. i couldn’t cope. i lost it. my self destructive tendencies peaked during this time. treatment here, treatment there. i guess i perservered. until, oh fuck- relapse. i became so introverted and constantly thought about death. anxiety. sleepless nights. i was paranoid every second of every day, feeling an unshakable sense of impending doom. death had never been realer to me and i couldn’t escape the notion i was going to die at any moment. to this day i can’t explain it. it’s fucked up, but i can’t help but feel you were with me through all of that. i was, unquestionably, plagued by demons, but firmly believe that all of this needed to happen. i was exposed to…not even exposed—immersed in the darkness, and when i finally came back to a semblance of normalacy, i had gained all this wisdom through seeing death. it’s funny, i used to claim to be depressed and be going through some weird shit back in 10th grade, but i had no idea. you don’t know it until you know it. until you go there. to hell and back, that is. i don’t even do coke or adderall or any of that shit any more, but the come-down feelings still hit me every now and again. diseuphoria. nights like tonight.

something’s missing

what is it?

i don’t know

it hurts like hell 

yet i’ve grown quite fond

of that endless black hole 

that aches in my chest

churning despair, reminding me of what i am

of what i am not

a nice morbid keepsake

my own personal hell

i loathe it

i need it

all artists have it

thrive on it

it makes us

that endless black hole 

that aches in my chest

I have cried,