Monday, July 28, 2008


I have been trying to explain to people why I could be depressed. If you recall how witty and hot I am, I understand your confusion, however, and it could be the LEO in me, I can't seem to find contentment. My dilema is that what exactly is the point of striving from day to day? Before we begin, I love the struggle. I enjoy the drama. I love both indulging and curing my impulses. I enjoy the process of being so desperate for something, needing that someone, ect. The intrigue is just that. But I am so frustrated that I can't seem to find a guiding light, a religion, for lack of a better word. Now, while this need for boundaries could be a lack of parenting when I was a wee lass, I lean more towards purpose. I hate leaving bed for nothing to do. Therefore, I hate going to church/service/dance circle to admire someone or something that basically just evokes good ol' common sense. While the theories of an all knowing power are convincing and most likely true, what the fuck good does it do me? Both "God" and "Satan" (to start with the most obvious, Christianity) can't do a damn thing for me. Before we get offended, I mean SURE they can set up all sorts of fun little life obastancle, but who's really running the decision making process. Yeah, that would be me. OR, SURE addictions are tricky and usually not so great and every "recovery" person I know is still a daily user (yeah, man, I went 3 years... that's great but here you are sucking the glass tube), but it really comes down to how much do care to change your fucking life.

Now before anybody starts to worry, these are not my thoughts. These are the thoughts (in a blog) of one of my best childhood friends, about 15 days before an "accidental" overdose. She passed two and a half years ago, but her birthday would have been tomorrow. She would have been 26. We weren't really close after we were done with high school, as our lives had taken us in different directions. But we talked every once in a while during college and met up for coffee during breaks. We were so different as adults than we were as children, and had gotten involved in drastically different activities. Her profile is still on myspace, though never to be "online" again. I sometimes feel depressed, though not this type of depression. But how we know? How we decide when it is time intervene for a friend? How do we know when we need an intervention? I suppose I will never know what she truly intended that day, and there are others who were closer that won't ever know either. For Raelynn, thank you for touching my life. Thank you for showing me that even when things get bad, there are so many people that are invested in my life, and are there to pick me up on my worst day.

It took me a while to get over the initial shock of Raelynn's death. I went to a small private school growing up, and graduated 8th grade with about 15 people. Raelynn did not stay until 8th grade. If I remember correctly, she left in sixth or seventh, but we did also go to the David Douglas HS together. Of the 15 who graduated from Crossroads, two have already died. A "fellow" Alisha died while she was in high school from an athsma attack. She had athsma for most of her life, but loved sports. Also Ryan Patterson. He gave me my first "present" from a boyfriend. It was a bag of salt water taffy, from the beach. He was the first boy that I gabbed on the phone with. He had a heart condition all his life but my freshman year in college, his heart just gave out, and he passed. I didn't really keep in touch with him through high school, but none-the-less, he died so young.

For those I have known, that have passed, I thank you for the way you have impacted my life. Your death is not forgotten, and I too, hope that I will make an impact.

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