
Remember @ MindSay 
I love a guy who's into Shakespeare and heavy punk.<3
"Let every nation know, whether it wishes us well or ill,
that we shall pay any price, bear any burden,
meet any hardship, support any friend,
oppose any foe to assure the survival and the success of liberty."
John F. Kennedy
Remember that morning
When we woke up
And after we made love
I went to get my panties at the side of the bed
Thinking I could maybe put them on again
And there were ants
Ants!
Eating my dried cum
Off of my underwear?
We both laughed,
“Damn things are as bad as you!”
You’d threatened to steal them someday
To smell and taste the stains I’d left there
While I was away
Cuz you
Make
Me
So
Hot!
Push them into your face as if it were my flesh itself
Treating the cotton as my clit
When you made me cry out
“So this is what head is supposed to feel like!”
(true story)
But would you like it now
I think not
Even if either
Or I guess more technically both
Of us wanted to
Or could
I don’t believe you’ll ever wish
You were tasting my adoration on your lips
Adoration for you
Again
And no, I don’t want you to
Because its not there
Remember that one time
The only time we ever made love in your car
In the parking lot of my apartment complex
Because our other lover
My girlfriend, your wife
Was jealous of our sex?
(Or at least that’s what I was told was the problem)
And remember after we got lost with each other
As you’d put it
And again stimulated my heart, my soul, my mind, my body, my brain
My love
I said,
“I can take that inside and throw it away for you.
I can hide it so my roommates don’t see.”
You
Rolled down the window
On the driver’s side
And reached your hand out the window
And dropped
Onto the black asphalt
Into the parking lot of my apartment complex
The condom still hot
Still wet
From our sex
We both laughed like idiots,
“Whoop!” you said as you let go
As the fluid soaked latex fell
“You’re such a dork!” I yelled
And I put my arms around you as best I could reach
And I remember
Will always remember
Do you?
(And as you let go
Of the latex covered
In our fluids created together
By each other
By our love
As you let go of something
Covered by us
In us
You said
“Whoop!”
Is that what you said,
When you let go of me,
Too?)It's weird that it was also a Sunday freshman year when Stacey called. I remember that weekend exactly. It was the weekend I really started to question myself, and what a homebody I was. I was 18 years old, living in New York City, but I was spending ANOTHER Saturday night in the dorm, doing work and watching a movie with friends (maybe, I might have just been doing work). I was mad at myself - I was also very self-involved with this thought process.
So Sunday morning Stacey calls. I'm excited to hear how life is in Rhode Island, since we haven't kept in touch nearly as well as we should have and I miss her greatly. I'm expecting loud, crazy Stacey with a loud, crazy story, but instead, her voice is quiet and not-unnoticeably shaking. I start to think of explanations; a fight with Jess, a fight with her overbearing mother, her crazy foreign roommate pissed her off again... anything.
Then she says, "Are you sitting down". I sat, knowing that it was a little more than a tif with someone.
So she asks me if I remember Ilan Schwartz. Of course I remember Ilan - he graduated a year before us, and he was to put it shortly, a jerk. Very cocky, full of himself, never wanted to talk to anyone who wasn't in his group of friends. Not someone I had missed for a minute since he left my life. I tell her that I remember him though. I half listen to her next few sentences - the ones about being out at a club while he was at school, the getting into a fight with some guys at the club, the part where he got stabbed during the ensuing fight, and the part where he was dead. And this might make me sound like the biggest bitch in the history of the world, but I have to be honest: I wasn't all that broken up that he had passed away. We'd been forced together for 3 years due to youth group functions, and never had a real reason to interact, so his death didn't really affect me that much. It struck me as a little weird, because people can tell me about a grandparent passing away I've never met, and I get very empathetic and I've cried, but Ilan passing... I wasn't happy or getting ready to do cartwheels, but I also was very apathetic to it, too. Again, judge me if you will and think I'm a bad person for not caring more about this boy's death, but that was how I felt.
Except, Stacey's still talking, talking about how she had heard the news from Ilan's sister, Hadar. I'm half-listening still, until I realize how weird that sounds to me. "his sister, Hadar". I start to think about Ilan, and realize, he had a little brother, but no sisters. So she wasn't talking about Ilan Schwartz. I think about it more, and my brain starts to make connections between 'Hadar' and 'Hadar's siblings". Moshe, Tali...and Elie.
Stacey was talking about Elie.
Elie the boy I knew and loved and looked up to. He was the one who was dead that November morning. Elie, a boy everybody loved and wanted to be friends with. The boy with the over-the-top personality who had an insatiable sense of humor and an even better laugh. The guy who was always nice to me, his little sister's friend. Elie was the one who had been the victim of a terrible act of violence as he enjoyed a night of his senior year at school. Who could hate or get mad at Elie enough to stab and kill him?
Over the next few days, more of the real story came out, a more painful story than any of us had initially realized. The fact that his death was self-inflicted, even if completely unintentional still haunts me. It's still the reason I get so upset when people I care about experiment with drugs that are harder than marijuana. The fact that one of his best friends was visiting him the weekend that he killed himself is something Craig has to live with the rest of his life. I don't know whose 'shrooms' they were; might have been Elie's, might have been his roommate's, might have been Craig's housewarming gift. Either way, Elie was on a 'bad trip', and went to the kitchen, and though his friends were trying to stop him, he stabbed himself repeatedly in the neck with a large knife. They tried to grab him and hold him down, but he jumped out of the window of the third or fourth-story apartment, breaking one or both of his legs, but living through it, screaming out in agony as he crawled around, begging for help. He survived all of this horror, but the doctor's in surgery couldn't save him.
I still miss him terribly. I think about him a lot. I still get mad at myself when I think about this. When I was a freshman, I pretty much worshiped Elie from the minute I met him. He was so inspirational to me; he had this passion for living and for our group that he got me excited. I had initially been very against the group, wanting to quit, but seeing how happy it made Elie and how much he got out of it, I decided to give it a second chance, and see what it could do for me. I had an amazing 4 years after that point, and I wouldn't have had he not inspired me to stick it out. I had these daydreams of running into him one day and telling him about it. About all he did for me unwittingly, but I never did. I always felt weird attempting it, but I figured one day I'd get to be a grown up and more comfortable with myself and be able to just say, "thank you".
I never got that chance. Even if knowing that he'd inspired me to stay would have been insignificant to him, it would have meant a lot to me, but I didn't do it when I had the chance, like when the 2 of us ran into each other at a dance my sophomore year, and I'll never get to, now. I've been writing a lot here about Sam, and how Sam has inspired me to write the people I care about letters letting them know how amazing they are, but Elie was my first wake up call. Both of their deaths came way too early (they were both 21 at the time, Elie having just turned, Sam being about 2 weeks away from 22), and both losses were profound and hit me pretty hard.
Take that minute to tell someone you love them, even if you think they know. You never know when you'll get the phone call that they're permanately out of your life and you'll never get to say those words to them. Have enough confidence that you and your feelings matter enough to the person you're addressing them to. I'm still working on that one. I'm working on picking up the phone and calling a long list of people who I've let slip out of my life and just reconnecting as much as I can. It might not work; but it's better than doing absolutely nothing. It's better than getting another phone call like the one that knocked me on my ass.
may angels lead you in
hear you me, my friend
on a sleepless road the sleepless go
may angels lead you in
His face haunts me- and his eyes taunt me.
I can't seem to escape the remembrance of his voice, the soft mellow tones, deep and soothing. I remember his hands, how large and weathered...his body, that of a swimmer, strong and lean like my own.
I remember his smile, the way his mouth would twitch to the side, almost coyly. . . the way he moved, swift and steady like a predator. His pictures, how simple yet almost threatening. I remember so much of him.
I remember his words, all of the perfect things he would say...how everything made me feel...knowing that he existed, and wanting to be with him until I died, and maybe even beyond. I remember. . .
"I love you Mel." and "You have no idea how much I need you babe. You made my day..I love you so fucking much. . ." and "Stay strong. Everything will turn out okay. . .You'll come back and knock them dead like you always do."
He was so perfect and cool- such a beautiful comfort, like water itself. Deep, knowing, flowing. . .and only ruined by his own wrong doings. . . but I still remember.
I can't seem to get him out of my head. . . Every time I try, I land back in the same place I used to be. The situation is so hopeless. . . and eventually this is going to fade. I just hope it comes quickly so I don't have to suffer anymore. I miss him so desperately. Every part of me is crying out for him...if I could see him, I'd wrap my arms around him, and sob, and cry, and never let him leave me again. . .
I'm facing so many fears now, that it's hard to understand where I have the strength. It's like a deep thing inside of me that I've always had- and it's surfacing now, as my nightmares dance in front of me, and my demons laugh in high pitched voices. . .
My God...what would Dave say?
He'd tell me to go in there and try my best, and knock everyone dead. He'd encourage me...he would.
I'm crying as I write this, because of how horrible all of it is....Sometimes I imagine him, fucking her, and I want to kill myself. I love him so much. There is no one that feels the way I do about him. Even after months I still love him as much as I used to....
I just don't understand why he had to write to me...
Why couldn't he have just let it die? Did he want a chance to say goodbye, in a nicer way? It didn't work. I'm just more hungry for him now. There is just no one else on this planet who can compare to David..he was just incredible, and I can never let him go.
..The thing is though, it's torture remembering..because it makes me cry every time I do. I miss him so much. He doesn't even know right now, how much I miss him..how bad it hurts. I just want to beg him to stay with me..just stay with me for a little while. Tell me about his day....how he's doing..everything, all of his favorite songs...what he wants, how I can make it happen.
I want to hold him when he cries, let him fall apart. . support him, give him everything, experience every little thing on this planet with him...because I love him.
I just love him...
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