You think you know trouble, you know sorrow and as far downhill as the human soul can go. You have been raped, beaten, humiliated, subjugated, castigated and every other horrible thing that can happen to a human. You’ve been so down that you thought of ending it and your life has nearly been taken from you by someone you thought you knew. You think you know trauma and sorrow and anger intimately, but you don’t.

You don’t know how far this world can really strip you down until the person you love the most is taken from you, too.

Male is dead.

You know him as Male. I knew him as something else. I knew him better than anyone. I gave him my entire heart for safekeeping and now he’s gone and I don’t know where it is. I’ll never get it back.

In the wee hours of Friday, he had a seizure, and it was one too many for his battered body. It killed him and he died alone. He died in another time zone and the person who found him Sunday morning was not me, but some random police officer. He died alone and I was not there.

And in that self-same human fashion where we turn everything back upon ourselves, I am mad at him for leaving me alone. I am mad at his mom for not calling me. I am mad at my friends for rushing to my side, yet not truly understanding everything this means to me. I am angry at the world for taking the one true and safe thing I had. And like Male, I died alone.

It took a while to sink in. It wasn’t until a few hours later when a friend told a story about him that it hit me that there will be no more stories. I took a shower, I used his razor, and I collapsed on the floor, letting the water mix with my tears.

And now, none of the other stuff matters. My crappy job, my crappy car, my purposeless life… None of that matters.

If this had happened a few years ago, I would have almost expected it. When he was at his worst, using and abusing every substance imaginable, I was prepared. But now, when he was sober and getting his shit together and going to law school, it just seems so stupid. I was not prepared, but I suppose no one really is prepared to lose the love of their life. Even if you think you are, you’re not. This feeling… this... is not something anyone is ever prepared for.

How does one go on living a normal life with that gaping hole there in your heart? How do you get over something like this? How do you stop feeling like it’s all so stupid? All of it. So stupid.

How do you look at your friends who are commiserating downstairs because they knew him, too–in some cases, longer than you did, but in a different way–and explain to them that your life just got sucked into a black hole? How do you get angry with your friends for telling off-color stories? How do you yell at a friend for grieving in a different way than you can at the moment? How do you live in a world where you apologize for being an asshole when your soul just died?

How do you live in a universe that would allow the new wife of his oldest friend to ask to talk to you alone only to tell you that the most ardent atheist you know was now in Jesus’ hands? Jesus! If there’s one thing I know about Male, it was not Jesus. Even if it were true, fuck you for saying that to me. Get your fucking paws off of me.

And how do you look at your red eyes in the mirror and deal with the guilt of being angry at him? How do you start speaking of him in the past tense? How do you cry when there are no more tears left?

How do you continue to live in a universe that would allow someone to even have a past like mine? And when you survive all of that and find someone you can love with all your heart, how do you continue to live in a universe that takes it away? How is there any meaning in that? How could you fucking take that away? Fuck you. It’s all so stupid.

So, if you love someone, I mean really truly love someone, go give them a hug for me now, because I can’t ever again.