Review Summary: this isn't a review, i don't even know what the fuck this is to be honest
In May of 2020, I lost and uncle to cancer and a friend to suicide. The worst part was that I didn't hear about my friend's death until September as I had gone dark due to personal reasons and had no access to internet at the time. I remember being angry and screaming off the top of my lungs when I heard about it. Angry that I wouldn't get to see my uncle again and angry I wouldn't be able to play video games with my friend once I got my internet back like I promised I would. I remember slamming my hands against anything solid, it didn't do anything to relieve the pain.
I made music once. It was terrible music. I would show this music to my friend from time to time. He would always listen and then say something to the effect of "it's pretty good." Nowadays I can't listen to my stuff without being repulsed at it's mediocrity. I wonder, did my friend know this? Did he only say it was good because I was his friend? Or was my friendship something that made the music better for him? I have had friends who made music that the world at large would disdain, yet it is music I would love. Is friendship an aspect that makes it more palatable for me? Or am I just spewing bullshit? Probably the latter.
My uncle wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer. He stopped progressing mentally at around 5 to 6 years of age. For all intents and purposes adults who interacted with him would consider his personality childish, but that aspect made him a hit with children. He was one of the few adults who could receive respect as a peer to children, and their admiration as an adult of authority. He died, alone, without visitation from his family and the kids who loved him, due to Covid-19 restrictions in New York.
My friend didn't get a funeral, it was agreed he wouldn't want one. I didn't go to my uncle's funeral. I said it was because I was in Florida and Covid restrictions in New York were tough. Not to mention the pandemic at large making me scared to go outside. All of those were excuses. Truth is I didn't want to go. I'd never been to a funeral and the thought of going to one made me ill. To watch someone I love be lowered into the ground in a black box, a lifeless body. It was a revelation of mortality I did not want to acknowledge. I was a coward. A disgusting coward. I wonder what my uncle would have said if he heard my music? He most likely wouldn't have understood it. Admittedly it was a (bad) product of it's time, and my uncle's music tastes were planted firmly in the fields of only the finest of 80's butt rock. He would have, however, said it was good; because that's just how he was as a person.
I keep thinking what would happen had I gained internet access earlier. Could anything I said have stopped my friend from dying? Truth is, I never would have known it was going to happen. Just as none of his friends and loved ones knew it was going to happen. He was positive the night before he shot himself. Talking about his prosperous relationship with his girlfriend, the new job he was getting, and a new game he couldn't wait to play. The signs were there. My friend was a cynical person at heart, so something like this should've been a red flag, but who the fuck is going to put those symptoms together in such a casual situation from a person who has shown no signs of suicide before? That's expecting too much. Of course I suppose this is me trying to annul myself of guilt, to place blame on something that is absolutely blameless. The part that hurts the most, is the fact that no matter how I go over the events, nothing could stop what happened.
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I made music once...
