“And this Valentine’s, you were supposed to still be mine.”

Two years ago, I called Dave to “chat.” Kevin had asked me to check up on him… he didn’t answer, and I can’t remember whether I left a message.

Two years from this Saturday, Dave killed himself.

And I don’t think the pain of it will ever leave me... sometimes  I wish it would.

I wrote a column about it, a column that will be published in the Stater on Friday. I left a class today because as we discussed a classmates’ story of a suicidal young boy, I couldn’t handle my emotions.

I wish, I wish, I wish – I wish I had another chance, another kiss, another apology, another do-over. I wish I could see him just one more time. I wish I remembered what his voice sounded like, what his face felt like, what. I wish I remembered that last time I saw him or the last time we spoke.

“We will never be over.”

“Why do I keep hitting myself with a hammer? Because it feels so good when I stop…” –Meredith, Grey’s Anatomy

I’m ill. Sniffling, sneezing, sleeping-as-much-as-I-can sick. I’m lucky it fell on a day when I didn’t have too much to do, so I could relax.

How come New York’s mother looks like a man? She freaks me out. I don’t understand why she’s such a big part  of the show – is New York incapable of making her own relationship decisions? Also, I hate that her mom made the guys go to church, even the Jewish kid & the one who really didn’t want to go in.

Also, I was  messing with my teeth today & somehow massacred my entire top gum. It’s been bleeding incessantly.

Who wants to write my magazine story for me? You? Yeah? Sweet.

I need sleep. I feel like a train wreck. Sorry this was boring.