So yeah. Thinking a lot about Cort. Thinking a lot about our stupid asshole brains that lead us to bad places. Thinking about the waste.
I don't know what the story is, and I'll probably never know. I only know in common her BFF, and I can't very well ask the obvious question. Hay is being a trooper about this, or at least she is on the outside. I can't imagine.
Trying to find out details online, but there's nothing up yet, and these things are always disguised a bit in language anyway. A brief mention on a funeral home website says the DOD was the twelfth.
She had a blog post up on the store's website, about her trip to Washington, visiting her aunt, and checking out the antiquing and design scene there. So considered, so put-together. This isn't design-dabbling, like my level, this was an interested pro.
That post was on the fourth, and the trip itself looks to have gone well. Which raises the immediate question, between got-shit-together fourth, and DOD of the twelfth, what the hell happened? What could have happened in that one week?
(Of course, she may have just kept it all hidden very well -- a real possibility. If anyone knew her real state, it would be Hay, and if she's this calm about it, well... who knows?)
So a lot of questions, and not many answers. Maybe there aren't any answers to be found. Probably not. This isn't the realm of logic we're dealing with here, it's about the software of our brain fucking us up.
So there's that.
Late last night, I realized that I had lost my necklace. I've been wearing it since my First Communion, so 35 years now? Constantly. Never took it off. I took it off for surgery, and that was it. Otherwise, it was always, always there.
Now I'm totally lost. A part of me is missing. I keep clawing at my neck to feel that it's still not there.
It probably just wore out.
It could be anywhere between here and Toronto. Looking for it is a fool's errand (but I may be that fool). If it's in the house, it'll turn up. But in the meantime, I feel totally, totally naked. Even more naked than when I'm totally naked. It's awful. And where to begin looking? I've gotta look. I have to fix this intolerable situation.
And that fixation became a focus point for the disappointment and anger about the Cort thing.
I don't know why my feelings are so strong about someone I hardly knew.
On my date on Saturday night, before any of this came out, my date said that suicide was 'selfish'. I didn't know why that jumped out at me then -- I didn't have any reason to take note of it. But it did. It struck me as a silly thing to say, both for its lack of understanding and lack of empathy.
Whatever drives someone to suicide, it's desperation, and a want for relief, and a lack of seeing any other options. That's not being 'selfish'. That's wanting to be free of unbearable pain. Any of us want that. Only our brains mislead us to thinking that this is the best path. We're in a terrible position, and we don't have proper equipment to get ourselves out. That's not being 'selfish'.
Hell, a good chunk of them don't want to burden other people with their problems. That's also not being 'selfish'. That's being 'considerate'. In a fucked-up way, yes, but considerate nevertheless.
Too sensitive for this world. It's a hell of a problem to have. The brightness was so much brighter than for the rest, but the darkness that much more unfathomable, unyielding.