Although i do not yet know the cause, i feel like i already do. She always walked a very thin line, which is how we became friends in the first place. I can't remember the first time we talked to eachother, but i do remember gazing at her from across the room for weeks on end - baffled by the boldness she so gracefully embodied.
What can i tell you about her that you won't absorb like everything else you read today? What can i say, that you won't brush off the way everyone does when a "friend of a friend" dies? You didn't know her, but if you did - you would know the following to be truer than most.
Her laugh was infectious. Like a fucking virus. The sound of her cackling will never be lost on my ears. Her deep, smokey voice...she did go through a carton a week. We would together. Drinking shitty 7/11 coffee and chain smoking in her "brand new" car from '87. She was tall, had these puffy lips i could never stop staring at, and was strikingly beautiful. BEAUTIFUL. No non sense about it. No one looked like her...she was in a world of her own, and i was lucky enough to be a part of it for a short period of time. She had a wickedly cynical sense of humor...i can't count how many desperate, depraved, nice people - we relentlessly mocked quietly from the back of the room. She was an incredible artist. Painting immaculate flowing pictures of women's faces on glass panes. She ONLY painted on glass. We used to sit on my bed reading eachothers notebooks. Our deepest, most personal writings, poems, letters we never sent....we would just read them out loud to eachother with some black and white movie playing in the background. All day. After the coffee wore off, we'd get under the covers and just hold eachother for the simple reason of feeling loved. Nothing sexual about it. We'd just hold eachother until we fell asleep. [which was hard for both of us to do]
I remember one day, a day like that....Where right before we fell asleep, her head was on my chest...her hair tickling my neck. I pulled her real close, held her as tight as i could, and kissed her on the forehead and told her "everything is going to be alright". Because in my worst, most depressed and fucking torrid times, all i ever wanted was for someone to do the same. She new that. She'd read that in my notebook. And she sat up, squeezed me, and kissed me on the forehead, and told me "everything is going to be alright".
That's what i will miss the most about you.
I love you, my RockNrollBeckster. Sweet dreams ;)
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