where is my mind

Where I'm at today is actually a nicer place than I was yesterday. I never really know from one minute to the next whether I'm going to start crying or be ok or completely numb. Today, however, has been a good day and I'm not going to question it. I'm just going to roll with this grieving process and let it take me where it wishes.

I woke up this morning really angry at the whole judicial system and the way that it treats felony controlled substance offenses when it's a proven addictive substance that was possessed. I mean, I know you can't force someone to want to clean up and you can't force someone to want to face their problems, but some good has to come out of some sort of treatment, right? Like even if the person doesn't want to be go something has to somehow sink in there. They have to hear some words the therapist says, or notice something about what they talk about in there. right?

It was nice to wake up angry instead of sad, but sort of amazing how angry I was. There was no peaceful, hello world, trying to adjust to being awake moment at all. It was just instant anger. I don't know what I was dreaming about but maybe it carried over into awake world.

I've been doing all this review of my life and how it will be different now. My day to day isn't all that different. Sure, there are all these moments where I would normally text Kevin something stupid or look for him online, or get some stupid message from him or get annoyed by his facebook posts and think about how productive he could be at a job if he would work as hard at it as he did with facebook. But it's more like a large chunk of my history is now just gone. There were the Kevin years and now there are the non-Kevin years. I mean, even past couple of years were Kevin years. He was always on my mind, I was always worrying about him, fielding ridiculous phone calls from him, fighting with him about this or that. If I had a problem, he was who I talked to.  I never really lost that connection, that hope that he could get his shit together. That there would be a happy ending in there somewhere.

He hated it when I cried, threatened whomever was the cause (even if I told him not to say anything). I guess he'd want to beat himself up right about now for all this sadness he caused.

He was such an imperfect person. I can't pretend like he was something he wasn't just because he's not here anymore. I can't pretend that he wasn't an expert liar, would be incredibly lazy, chose booze/heroin/whatever over a lot of better things in his life. He had a way to make people love him regardless of those imperrfections, smart people who would normally have nothing to do with any of that. He dicked over a lot of people, and yet they still thought he was great. How does someone have the ability to do that? If I did half the shit he did, I'd have a fraction of the friends he had. Amazing.

He was incredibly talented at almost everything he did. I used to call him the dumbest smart person I ever knew. He could just pick something up like he was doing it for his whole life. He had an insatiable appetite for music, movies, culture, whatever...He just knew about stuff and had done stuff. He was incredibly gifted but if there was a wrong choice, he'd make it just because he could and it seemed fun.

He also had a knack for finding people who could bring out the worst in him. He knew better, but he did it anyway. He never learned what the word enough meant. There was never enough. He was shocked when I said enough, despite me telling him it was coming. That I had all that I could take. Shocked. And the years following, despite knowing that we were going different directions, that we wanted different things, he still called and texted and emailed about how things could be. How he wanted them to be with us. Never gave up.

It's weird trying to figure out what happens now. All of those things I wished for will never be now. All of those things I'd want to tell him will have to go somewhere else. All of that history stays with me and only me now. I no longer share all those memories with someone. They're now mine alone. It's a weird place to be in, a sad place, but a place I have to get used to because that's where I am now.