Fucking on a tragedy

Last week, I went looking for a missing friend, a bunch of us went looking for this missing friend. During my enthusiasm to go find him, I never thought for once that I’d have to call the cops and have them bust down his door only to find out that he was in the apartment dead, because he hung himself from a suicide.

I know that’s graphic, but that’s how it is. And somehow I think the more I say it and admit that that is what happens, it helps me cope better with not being able to ever lay eyes on someone who I considered to be family. I’ve already had two emotional breakdowns since last week. Screaming at the top of my lungs, having random insane conversations with my dead friend, talking to myself like one of those crazy people you see on the nyc subways; crying, asking why, slamming things. Calling friends and giving them an earful of screams and cries. Thank goodness some of the people I know are exceptional.

This situation made me question so many things like my own mortality, mental illness, and relationship with friends and family. It also made me realize how inconvenient it is to be poor in this world. Stories have been low again because work is still moving at a snails pace. While I have missed a few updates there hasn’t been much to report. But this, this, required some other thought that just made me say WTF is this life.

Here it is that work has been so slow that I am barely making it. And then my friend has died and all of a sudden now the phones are ringing again. This past Sunday, like it has never happened in a long while, I got three back to back calls. On my third call I saw one of my regular boyfriends whom I haven’t seen in months. He changed work schedules and also suffered a death in his family so seeing him was hard. It was hardest seeing him than the other two prior to him because I’ve known him longest, he just experienced a similar situation and he was the last of the night. I wanted to let go of all this anger and confusion.

I tried to hold it in. I laughed, I procrastinated our intimacy. We joked around, we played. He’d bought me a bottle of tequila and I drank to try and ease the pain and discomfort, and then at some point we began to have sex. I came as I thought about him leaving so I could grief in silence. And as he fucked me, I began to cry, asking him questions like why doesn’t he come fuck me more.

I’d promised him in an effort not to kill the buzz that I’d leave my sad news for the end of our tryst. And as we sat there at the edge of the bed as he sat with his shirt off, I told him and tears came flooding. He gave me reassuring words, hugs and made me feel overall better about everything. Just the day before I had my first meltdown or what I think is a nervous beak down. And then just a day later it would happen again, after I thought I was feeling better.

I may be in this work, but it doesn’t mean I’m rich. And not having regular disposable income means that even when I want to mourn the death of someone I can’t really, cause life has to go on, things have to go on as usual. Being poor costs. It will costs all of your health and sanity if you let it. But how can you not let it when you don’t have enough money to take the month off so you can cope with the loss of a friend?

How many more dicks can I suck and fuck while I’m experiencing this tragedy. This isn’t over, as my friend was found on a early Thursday morning. He was in his apartment for days before he was found. His memorials are next week. No idea when is the funeral. And through it all I have to be around people. Rubbing dicks, giving folks my attention, my energy, and pretending I like them when all I may want to do is sit in a corner and grieve. Life is unfair, but I still want to be here. I want to see how far I will have become, and if I can impact lives like my friend did. In the meantime I just want to work on financial stability, as I should be allowed time to grieve, poor or not.

It costs to be poor, and I honestly can no longer afford it.

BH

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One Response to Fucking on a tragedy

  1. TheDuck says:

    yes, being poor costs. yes, you should be able to grieve without having to worry about money. sending you anonymous-internet-stranger-warmth and hoping you get the space to break as much as you need to. ❤

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