Yesterday...

I go to therapy. Weekly. Why? I'm...shall we say, broken? a fuck up? a white hot mess of a man? Whatever answer you choose, I'm trying to work through my shit, and come through it a better man. Mostly it's been about me, my relationships, what made me act a certain way. It's made me look at myself, my actions, etc. Yesterday...well, it was different.
Not sure how it started, but we got on the subject of school. Where I fit in, etc. I got on a small rant about hypocrisy. It made me remember the death of a close friend and my school's reaction to it. In 6th grade I met a guy named Carl Newheki. Carl was a grade older and lived in a nice area of Detroit (yes, there are a couple of them), where Ross and Tudrick lived. I never knew why he hung out with us, guess to get stoned and get away from his home life. Maybe to make himself feel better about his own home life, I don't know. He became one of us, but more likable. When push came to shove, he was there to back you up. Because of that he was labeled with the same labels. "Stoner." "Loser." "Fuck Up." We used to go back to his house, hang out in the basement, listening to new records and talking shit. Funny thing was that, at least to me, Carl had it all. Stay at home mom, dad who worked a good job, new clothes, shoes, whatever he needed, and yet he wasn't any happier than we were. Long story shorter. One night, Rausch is banging on the door. I opened it and he's teared up, freaking out. "Carl's dead. Fuck, fuck, fuck!!!" It takes me a few minutes, but I finally get out of him what was on the news. Carl's dad returned home from work to find his 5 children and wife dead. Apparently, Carl's mom had killed each of the kids as they came home from school and then herself. I guess, the relationship was coming to and end and she couldn't handle it.
So all of us got together on top of an old building, got high and talked about what was going on with us. Talked about Carl, about his brothers and sisters. What it would be like to have YOUR MOM shoot you. I just remember Rausch saying over and over "if anyone talks shit tomorrow, I'll kick their fucking ass." So we went to school the next day, half expecting to hear people talking about "one less loser." That wasn't the case though. Instead there were girls crying, banners saying "we'll miss you Carl", teachers talking about dealing with "our feelings." In my head I was screaming "What the fuck are YOU crying for? YOU didn't lose a friend. Fuck, when was the last time YOU said hi or even smiled at Carl?" You know the craziest thing about it all? All these middle class white kids wanted to talk to us about Carl, find out what he was like. I wasn't having any of it. You didn't want to know him while he was here-fuck yourself. I wonder why people want to be close to death, to know someone that's died. It's not that great of a feeling, I promise.