Lose
It doesn't matter what I say. Doesn't matter what I think anymore. Doesn't matter what someone else has to say or what they think they could have done. It doesn't matter because the truth remains.
Dave is dead.

I tried so fucking hard to keep myself together all day yesterday and all day today. But almost at the exact 2:28am when Eric called me and told me, I couldn't help but fucking sob. Sob like it happened again. And the way I feel is the same. I'm not going to tell anyone to be strong, that we'll be ok. Fuck you if you say that to people. Because it's ok to NOT be ok. It means you fucking care and although Dave wouldn't have liked me crying and hurting again, I think he would understand. Because I don't think about him when I have bad days or when I feel bummed. I think of him when I'm happy, when I wonder what he would think about the things in my life, what he would cal me out on. I think of him every mother fucking day. Every day. He's in me every day. His last words are on my skin and my philosophy for the rest of my life.

Even when I go to shows now, it's not the same. All the times we sat in the car just talking about how life sucks or how people were so fucking insincere. I miss that the most. Not even the wild and crazy antics. I miss his sincerity. Because 90% of the people I know are fake, selfish, dishonest, full of shit. He was quite possibly the most honest and sincere, genuine person I have ever met. He told you how it was and he was loyal to his friends. I got along with him in a way I have never been able with anyone else. We talked about being depressed. And being let down.


My only comfort, only, is the fact that he knew I cared. And that he let me know that he cared for me too. I miss him so much. Everyday. I miss hugging him. I miss him picking me up and putting me on his shoulders. I miss him making jokes and being crazy Dave. I miss him being angry and blunt. I miss him calling people out. I miss him slapping people with his bear paw. I miss seeing him plow through people at shows. I miss stories. I miss jokes. I miss hugs. I miss his face.

I write about him all the time. I wrote pieces for him in my class. He comes up in my blog almost everytime I update it. I put my hand over my ribs and put warmth to his last words to me everyday. He's part of me now because I was so fucking lucky to have known him.

It doesn't matter what I say. What we think now. What matters is what we do. And I'm going to say it's fucking good to cry. Good to remember. Because you know what? He fucking thought that we could forget him. And if it doesn't hurt you today, if it doesn't hurt in 5 years, when you're old, or when you're dying, then it means that you forgot. Remember what a fucking amazing person he was. Because there sure is hell no one like him. Nobody real like him. Nobody sincere like him. Nobody as crazy as he.

I love you Dave. I think you knew. I care about you, I care about you.