Post 100.

See title. 
I've just watched DANCER IN THE DARK. That Bjork movie. My sister was sitting on the love seat. I started the movie. The dog started barking and my sister went away into the bedroom, and I had to answer the door. Hello, Brian. And they sat together on the love seat. In fact, they're still there now. At some point in the movie, with them still seated, the dining room light turned on. This meant mom had returned from a day of work I haven't heard about yet. I thank Casey for not telling me everything about this film, but I thank him more for warning me that I was going to sob. Because I did. I cried a shit ton at the end of REQUIEM FOR A DREAM, and vowed to never watch it again. But from a certain point on in this film I literally could not stop crying. I watched it in parts on Youtube and after the initial faucet break in my face, I  squeaked, and sighed into the kitchen. I dried my eyes and face on a rough paper towel, and walking back to my chair at the computer I hit three of my toes on the leg of our dining room table. It was such a phenomenal film. I don't even have words. I haven't cried more because of a movie. I had a particularly hard time with it towards the end. But I've cried more.


Starting in October, if I let my mind wander too much, I'll catch myself imagining the process of being hanged. The build up. The act. And I'll close my eyes, and shake my head, and make the monster go away. 
I found out about Gibran's death around 1am on October 10th. A day or two after it occurred. I found out via a friend Symone's Facebook status.  I don't even really know her. But that was the first I knew. I read it multiple times before going to his Facebook page. And there were already so many messages to him. A classic feeling of disbelief. I didn't cry then. I just sat. And read what everyone had to say, before writing my own.
"Gibran. You were the first person I ever felt a gut wrenching love for. You were the first person I ever kissed. You were the first person to make me feel like I was worth anything. You were my best friend. You were more than my best friend. I was still completely in love with you in the eighth grade. I can still hear your laugh. I'm not exactly sure of the details of what's happened but the hole I acquired when we entered high school has just gotten tremendously larger. I love you. I love you. I knew that dream I had about you last night meant something. I'm just sorry to hear that it was this."


I sat there in my nightgown, staring at the screen. I clicked the 'X' at the top of the screen and went into my room. I can't remember if I laid down or went into my bathroom to wash my face, which I did first. But I got a call from a boy named Ivan. He had gone to my school for a semester or so, and had at one time dated Gibran. I answered the phone, fully aware of what he might say. 
"Lucy?" He asked. 
"Ivan?" 
"Did you he hear what happened?"
"Yes."
"Do you know how?"
"No. I don't know."
Our voices were shaking and he started crying. Said he had to go, but that he would call me back. I set the phone down, and began to cry. Never before had I done so in this manner. I fell to the floor between my sister's side of the room and mine. I probably disappeared into my nightgown a la the Wicked Witch of the West. I shouted "Mom" between gasps and moans. It probably sounded more like an animal. I figured if she didn't hear me, that I would stay there until I passed out from exhaustion. A little less than a minute passed before she came into my room half dressed to scoop a shaking me up off the floor. I managed to tell her what happened. Ivan called me back. I remember every moment of that, but I don't remember much of the rest of the night. 
The next day I washed my face, finally, tied my hair up, and got in the car. I couldn't look at anyone at the theatre. Ally asked how I was, and I didn't even respond. I shook my head, and set my bag down at the makeup table. Coffee in hand. I steered clear of her, and Steve Wood, but caught Carley's eye in the office. She asked me how I was, and I again could only shake my head. I made my way to a bench outside, and she came out to sit with me. We didn't talk for a while, but when we did I started melting all over that bench. Kristi arrived, and dropped all her things. And we exchanged an embrace and murmured into each other. Yes, I would do the show. Yes, I was sure. And we did. I choked a little rehearsing the numbers beforehand, and made sure that those who I needed were there. 
Christopher waited for me in the office of the theatre and took me to a park where I shoved my bare back into the bark of a palm tree, and only after a while spilled bodily face fluids into his shirt. I remember every moment of that too. I walked around Bookmans, and watched Disney's Hercules the rest of the day. 
I've cried on occasion since. I've having a hard time dealing with it though. Because I'm only occasionally fully aware of it, and I feel very distant. 


I can't write any more tonight. 
I just can't.
But. I'm fine.