We got an email today from our head of composition saying that there will be a meeting on Wednesday to discuss ~stress~ within the second years relating to *experiences* earlier this year. I can only imagine this will be a follow up meeting to do with how we have all dealt with Dave's death and ways to deal with stress that might occur. I don't know how to feel about it really.
I've written this before but I do think about Dave quite a lot. Being an active sufferer of the capital-D ~DEPRESSION~ I often wonder where I would be if I did not have the support of my friends and family - if I was slightly more introverted, triggered more easily - if I had a different diagnosis - where would I be? And if things could be different for good or for bad...where would Dave be?
I remember the morning after we found out about Dave we were all called into uni to have a meeting. I had assumed everyone had been told the night before what had happened but there was one person who hadn't - I wasn't the one who told him, but I did watch as he swallowed the awful piece of information and I felt like I was intruding terribly on a very private experience. I found out at a bar, in the smokers area, I remember my hands shaking and Lewis saying "Dave..." like he'd done something stupid like he'd...I don't know, like he'd ridden a bike without a helmet and fallen off or something. In my head, though, in my head...I was kind of calm. We walked outside and sat down opposite a busker who was playing guitar and I couldn't stop thinking about how he'd never even touch a guitar again and how he loved music so much and he is (was) so much better at guitar than this guy and I couldn't help but get my tenses all mixed up - is, was, is, was - when someone is taken from the world so suddenly I guess our brains lag, huh.
He was such a mystery to me. And not in a teen drama, college novel kind of way. He was - is - a terrifying mystery that I'll never solve. We'll never really know why anyone would take his or her own life - it's impossible, impossible to a healthy head, and one can only make poorly informed assumptions at best. It's not "tragically beautiful", it's a terrible, horrifying, confusing, infuriating mess. I know, because I was at Dave's funeral, and I saw his grandmother crying in front of me, even though she was ancient and demented she understood everything that was going on and was wailing for Dave. I saw his girlfriend and I'll never, ever, ever forget that, not in my darkest, most frightening minutes I'll never forget how she has to live now.
And so it goes on in my head, the cycle of confusion, frustration - and what I feel is magnified by an infinite amount within the people who knew Dave well. I can't imagine what it must be like to live with that constant stream of questions in your head, with no answers possible. I feel for Dave's friends, with all of my heart. It is not an easy life. I'm little, but I know that much. I always try to put a positive spin on things on my blog because I think in most cases there is positivity to be found. But here there is none. And I've tried, I've really, really tried, to find some, but I just can't, and it kills me, and I don't know what to do.
I guess life is cruel for no reason, just as it is kind for no reason.
I like to write about these things because it helps. I don't know why, it just does - like breathing out a big breath feels really nice you know. I feel like once writing or making music or art or whatever stops being a cathartic process, it's time to re-evaluate things.
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