It’s another year come and gone.
The fifth one, to be precise, since I woke up to the phone call. I remember it distinctly: waking up, even though my phone was on silent, and seeing that J███ was calling me. I had already missed one call from him, and it was still so early in the morning. That was weird, considering he used to be known for sleeping until 3PM any chance he had, and especially considering that both of us would rather text someone than call them.
Two calls, early in the morning, I had better pick up. It’s probably important… It was.
D████ was dead.
Okay, I’ll be right over. Hung up the phone, threw some clothes on, and immediately went downstairs. It was Black Friday, so I didn’t have work, and it was the day after Thanksgiving so my parents were even more surprised to see me out of bed– let alone dressed and ready to go– so early. “Wow, you’re up early!”
D████ is dead. I’m going to see J███ I’ll be back later.
The rest of that day has become something of a blur in my memory, though. I think we gathered at the house, but we might’ve gone to A████ instead. But that might’ve been a different memory… Of a cookout where D████ brought some weed cookies and C███ ate too many and got super high. Either way, I remember getting there and getting drunk. We all got drunk. What else were we supposed to do? What else could we have done?
We sat, and we cried, and we got angry at him for doing this, and we drank. And life has never been the same since, really.
I’m not a person who can handle or process emotions that well. I’ve never had the healthiest coping mechanisms, and talking about my problems makes me feel exposed and vulnerable. That’s probably why I just scream here, into this void, where I can pretend that none of you know my name (if, in fact, there is anybody reading this). It’s safe. It’s cathartic. It’s another unhealthy coping mechanism. But that day… That day, I started filling all my available free time with stuff. I started working more theater gigs, I agreed to start helping with overhire and renovation jobs, I started picking up anything I could just to keep myself from being left alone with my thoughts. I started running from show to show to show: ask some of my friends and they’ll confirm. I would finish one show, and the day after closing night I would be immediately off and working for some other gig. And then that would run straight into auditions or production meetings for the next show.
I’ve done this for 5 years now. I haven’t stopped. Because I’m still not able to be alone with my thoughts.
But today: I feel so disconnected from everyone. Friends who don’t call or text, who either can’t keep up with my need to be always on the move or who can’t endorse this as a healthy way to live. I stare at my phone, I scroll down the list, and I see all the names of people who disappear as soon as I become inconvenient for them. And it’s days like this where I feel like I can understand where D████ was coming from. Almost like I can see his point of view.
Days like this, I wish he was still alive, so I could talk to him and maybe we would both feel more together and less alone. Or sometimes, I wish he was still alive so that I could’ve been the one in the noose. But every day, the sun still rises. And my eyes still open. And I am still here: in this dumpy body, wearing this rotting mask of humor and false smiles, playing the clown so everyone can forget their own problems. Tossed away like Thanksgiving leftovers as soon as I can be safely forgotten about.
I guess this is life, though. And as much as I want to, I can’t actually stop living it. I can’t let this bastard depression take another one of us.