Hungry for some ice cream?

My dead gay best friend told me I should throw a brick through this guy’s window right onto his bed—and to make sure he was in it. We laughed. That’s what I miss most about him—we both had such dark suicidal/homicidal humor that most people just don’t think is funny.

One time, we were in line at the grocery store when we were both in high school. There was a woman in front of us with a gallon of ice cream. So I said in a goofy, silly voice, “Hungry for some ice cream?” She didn’t think it was funny. At all.

She said to my best friend, “Your girlfriend needs to learn some manners.” This, of course, just made us laugh harder because he was gay. I’m sure reading this, you probably aren’t laughing like we were, but I just miss him so much. I appreciate you humoring me.

The last time I saw him, he wouldn’t let me see his apartment. He said it was a mess. I thought of that today. I thought about the fact that he had shame about it, that at the time, I didn’t understand that. I was just mad he wouldn’t let me see his apartment.

No one mentions Michael Jackson’s addiction. But I think it should be talked about. I was mad at the man that gave him the overdose. I’m sure the doctor did as he was manipulated by an addict to do—but he should be held accountable. I thought about the doctor’s fear of losing his job, but what about the fear of being prosecuted for homicide?

My best friend’s sister didn’t tell anyone how he died. I think it was an opportunity to talk about addiction. I think it was an opportunity to take the shame out of it.

I dreamt about the guy who we joked about throwing a brick through his window. He is still alive and on facebook. I wish my best friend were so I could tell him and we could laugh about it.