This week, an old friend faked his death
I removed the people that lied to me about it from my facebook
I know he faked it because I can’t fathom how the people that passed on the message could possibly have waited so long to tell me – and also because they didn’t write to me from his mother’s house. If someone you’re close to dies, you don’t spend time mourning the selfish fucker. You get up and head straight over to his parent’s house.
You don’t leave one missed call on someone’s facebook and then go “i’m really busy, speak later” – you call again and again and again and again. You leave five hundred messages at the very least – to say “KARINA OUR BEST FUCKING FRIEND IS FUCKING DEAD, WHY DON’T YOU ANSWER YOUR FUCKING MESSAGES – WE KNOW YOU’RE NEVER NOT BESIDE YOUR FUCKING LAPTOP”
I know my shitty ex friends that well. They still haven’t learned me all that well
If I’ve ever called you a friend I think it’s safe to say that isn’t how I feel about you anymore.
Better story: More uplifting/funny/positive
Before I realised which Luke had apparently “died” – I truly thought they meant the guy I’d dated for a few years. I have about 4-5 memories of that relationship and none of them good/bad/right/wrong but certainly not the make up of any kind of acceptable chemistry. We were together for four to five years
I’ll tell you some of our memories – there was a particular birthday of his in which he and I were “cooking” and he ditched me because people that I’d introduced to one another decided to take him to the circus. I wasn’t invited to that. I heard it was ‘okay’. Which I think meant ‘it was fucking awful’.
One time I woke up in bed, realising he wasn’t next to me although we were living together and it was really late at night. I walked out of my room to the kitchen and he and a girl I had been babysitting for years were flirting with each other. I said “what the hell are you doing?” and I just walked back to my room.
A girl on the internet put this song on her tumblr and I think technically this was our song
One time, when I was working at ‘Slug and Lettuce’ – I literally ran home cos I had anxiety and I felt he was cheating on me. He was lying in bed with a person I’d been trying to befriend, because she was a lot prettier than me and I felt like that meant she could have whatever she wanted without a fear of me impinging. The jealousy I inspire in others that I find to be somehow better off than me has never not genuinely confused me.
Our – my ex and myself – very most memorable conversation took place after a traumatic moment in which I saw a perfectly formed pink fetus that came out of my vagina completely covered in what the sciences have so kindly described as ‘discharge’ (haha, the patriarchy) spin in a perfect circle before I placed it on a rock and watched it die – and he came home after a routine day at work (code for: a day of cheating on me with the teenagers he ought to have been babysitting at Hobbycraft) to tell me that it looked like tobacco. So that explains this:
I mean it
When I had my old facebook – it had a collection of some of the best art and collages ever. A screencap of Beyonce with the word ‘UPGRADE’ in gold in her mouth
There was a picture I’d probably found on google or tumblr of a graphic novel rendition of the one sentence I could actually be bothered to read in L’etranger by Camus. I love dystopian literature (well no, I actually love dystopian film but it sounds much fancier amongst those educated types to say ‘oh i love a bit of Camus’) but this was really the most I had ever fucking resonated with a writer. I didn’t need to read anymore. I totes got him.