Say What?!

I have to write this down before i go to sleep. Before I go to dream world only to wake up and convince myself that tonight did not happen.

Tonight I had a closing shift with Sean. I haven't seen him in awhile because my hours are wonky. Wonky hours mean less time flirting in the aisle with him and making inappropriate jokes.

So needless to say, it was nice seeing him and being around him and generally having him around.

We were heading out of the break room just as he was making a joke that he was aware that I 'wanted' him. He said this because he is doing some dumb intense workout routine that has beefed him up a bit. The few times we've worked together he makes sure that I get a peak at his flat stomach. Yep, I said it. He lift up his shirt, baring a very flat, toned stomach and ask me if I can see the difference in his body.

(Yessir. I do).  

He asked me again tonight. To check out his newly toned body so that I could do my dumb girl thing and compliment him. I said i didn't want another sneak peak of his body (liar), so he stopped abruptly in front of me I bumped into him and pretended to be offended (at first)

"Aren't you a little bit interesting in looking"

(Of course. I am a girl w/desires and needs).

"No! And why do you care what i think of your body" I laugh patting him on the back and moving around him to go back to work.

"Because I know that you think of me"

(Please. I don't want to have this conversation now).

"No I don't"

"Oh, come on, yes you do".

"You have a girlfriend which means you are pretty much off limits, whether i think about you or not isn't going to make a difference at the end of the day"

He looked  hurt by this for some reason. The nature of our conversation suddenly went from funny to semi-serious. He turned to me with his very stoic face like as if he is trying to pull the truth from me with his eyes. And I felt guilty for lying to him but too guarded by my feelings to admit that I like him. More than I should.

"You're right. I do have a girlfriend. But are you saying, outside of that, that you really don't think about 'us' at all"

"I mean-i do-maybe, like--it's....."

"....cause i do. think about us.

".....really?"

"A Lot actually. And I do, you know, consider us. If things were different I would want an 'us'. I just wanted you to know that"

Uh, asaywhat?!?! excuse me?!?!?! Did you just say this?

I stared at him with a stupid look on my face. And then I giggled uncomfortably. And then mumbled something incoherently that resembled 'yeah, me too'

I don't understand boys. I don't understand why he'd tell me he thinks of being with me in 'that way' or 'this way' or 'some way' knowing that nothing can or will come of it while he is with his girlfriend. Maybe he is trying to test me. Maybe he is throwing ideas out there to see which one I'll latch onto. I'm not sure. I'm just not.

And I'm not use to attention from boys. Sexual, emotional or otherwise so i misinterpret everything. But he looked all cute and 'do you think of me' adorable and I wanted to say "Yes! Yes! I do think of you. in the way you have just admitted you think of me! Now break up with your girlfriend, let's make this happen and carve me another vampire stake baby!!!'.

But things with him are complicated. Things with me are equally complicated. And my needs vs. my wants are completely confused by this boy.

Why must he be so cute. and unavailable. and so tempting. Why must i be so needy and wanting of his affection.

A Change of Seasons.

I'm uber anxious tonight. You ever get that sense that everyone/thing around you is going through some universal change. That there is a newness in the air. That things are going to be different, not really better or worse, but just New. This feeling excites and scares the crap out of me. These last few months I have been so comfortable in my everyday that I've been ignoring the changes around me. I've fallen into a routine that doesn't necessarily make me happy but that makes me feel safe.

But safe is boooooring. While I am content with it these days because of all that has happened these last few months. I am not happy about stagnation. At all. Of course these thoughts/fears/worries are running rampant now as mutltiple changes are occurring to people around me. "James Franco" look-a-like is going to New Zealand for 8 months this summer. 8 whole months! What the what?! Another friend of mine just announced he got a desk job at some crap company that makes lens. People are coupling up, breaking up and forming new and stronger bonds (me included). The weather is warming up. Everyone is packing away the old to embrace for the new. Things are suddenly in bloom.

And lately I feel stuck at the starting line.

I am not a girl who settles. I want to try new things and see where this potential can get me. And now that Spring is at my fingertips I crave change more than ever. I mean sure, I like my life these days. I like my friends and my crush( a lot) and the change in my personality. I am less hard on myself. Okay with making mistakes. Content with being a fearless explorer of simple pleasures. But i absolutely loathe everything else about my days. I hate all this free time (the store cut hours again). I hate my job. I hate never having money. I hate the lack of creativity. And direction.

I want to balance the loves of my life with the needs of my life. But this is an easier said than done.

I need newness in my life. Something to restore the drag that often cast its shadow overhead. I need to start making goals again. I don't' want to be left on the wayside as things begin to bloom and change shape.

And I'm not talking my usual dumb abstract goals either. I need to have concrete aspirations that I can accomplish within a decent amount of time. Goals that reflect my current needs: monetary stability, dedicated free time to finish short story anthology, a change of venue (I'd like my own little studio at least before my 27th birthday) and an available cute boy to date.

I simply need a new routine that is so outside of my current one.

For once if things are going to change around me, I'd like to be apart of it. I'd like to be apart of the transition into a new more exciting way of existing.

I am capable of this.

Life After Death

Today marks 3 months since Marie committed suicide and I'm not really sure how I'm dealing with her death/my grief these days.

I do know that missing her has not gotten easier. Sure I don't cry as much. Sure that empty feeling in my stomach is no longer there. Sure I am not throwing things at people and being an impossible wall to talk too. But I miss and think about my best friend every day. I carry her life and death on my shoulder like a badge and Scarlett letter. I am conflicted by my love and rage towards her.

Today I was cleaning up my room when I found a Christmas card Marie sent me two years ago.
It's this silly holiday card with a hand drawn picture of a muscle-y dude holding various handy tools. The guy of my dreams for the holiday she writes. A present from her to me.

I forgot i even had this card in my possession. Since her death I have been in search of physical items of hers to keep nearby. My memories feel faulty. My life with her even more complicated when I do allow myself to go to the time when she was alive. Because of this i find comfort in the physical things she left behind rather than the emotional. The concrete rather than the abstract.

Like the GRE and cookbook she mailed me my first year in New York. Or the stuffed animal she bought me in the 12th grade. His name is George ( i name every stuffed animal George. seriously) and he sleeps in the reading nook i created in my room. I have this ugly scarf she bought me when my hair was uber crazy that i wear every day at home. These physical properties, that she touched and possessed, are my reminders that she existed outside of the memories that plague me.

Cause while my life continues to go on and i form new/meaningful relationships and bonds with people they can't begin to understand the weight of my grief and loss. That the person I felt the closest too in the whole wide world took her life a few months ago.

So naturally when I found this card, I sort of fell to pieces. I gasped and then ran my fingers across her handwriting and brought it close to nose to see it still carried the scent or essence of her. And it doesn't. It's just another thing (along with myself) that she left behind. Another thing that i will add to the rest of the objects I'm collecting and hanging on to that will conjure memories of our time together.

It's hard dealing with her death because i feel so guilty about moving on. I feel guilty about the experiences i am having and the life i am creating and the daily knowledge that for me to deal with her loss it is necessary for me to take charge of my life and happiness. I feel like I am relearning how to live all over again.

The other week I went to a hotel party with a friend (Chris) from work who happens to be Sean's cousin. I've known him longer than Sean and generally like being around him because he's a creative and introverted and sincere platonic guy who i get along with. And the complete opposite of my current crush, which is a good thing.

The party we went to was thrown by a mutual friend whose birthday was that weekend. Because neither of us wanted to go separately we decided to go together. To make it less awkward and so that we would have an out when we both got tired of drunk people and loud music. And while I was a little hesitant about going to this party, I wanted to do something different on a Saturday night. I knew that Chris and I would have a good time regardless ('we can make paper cranes if you feel uncomfortable).

We stayed much longer than anticipated though. We never got to make paper cranes. I was tipsy and and lightheaded because i forgot to eat earlier that day. Some more people from work showed up and we sort of sat around and talk for a long time. As more people started to join the party (many I did not know), it seemed harder to find an excuse to leave. I was concerned because Chris looked like he had no intention of heading home. He sort of fell into the 'jovial talkative' guy early on and I didn't want to leave without the person I came with, even if he decided to change the 'we bail early' plans.

Around midnight though, I was wearing thin. And he immediately took notice. There were several complaints about the noise level in the room, so we took this as our opportunity to bail. Of course by this time, I was above and beyond tipsy. The alcohol had gone straight to my head and I would have failed any 'walk in a straight line' tests. Everyone kept asking how I was going to get home and to be honest I had no clue. I didn't think this part of the night through. But Chris, being the gentleman that he is, offered to walk me all the way home.

I declined his offer at first. I live about 30 minutes from the hotel and I was worried about how he would get home because he would miss his bus or train by walking me all the way to my house. But he said he didn't mind. He told Sean he would take care of me and that is what he intended to do. So he extended his arm out for me to grab and we started the stumbling, drunk walk to my house.

On the walk home we talked about everything: Sylvia Plath, how to sober up in the morning, the lack of hours at work, what it is that we are suppose to have figured out in our 20's. It was sort of nice. The moon was out, there was a nice wind blowing and he let me rest my head on his shoulder as he practically dragged me home. As we started the walk up the big ass hill that leads to my house he started to talk about writing. Current and old projects. He wanted to know how my writing was coming along. And i said (something along the lines of):

My best friend killed herself 10 weeks ago. She was my everything. And everything I use to know about writing and myself and life feels uneven. I don't know who I am as a writer anymore because she was such a big part of my life as one. So the writing is not coming. I can't think anymore. I have no words anymore. For anything.

I felt him tense up against me. He was quiet for a moment and I feared that I'd gone too far by bringing her up. By admitting my current issues with writing. But baring such a private thing to him. But he continued dragging me up the hill, matching my sloppy steps and said (something along the lines of)

I heard. About your friend. And, um, I wanted to say that I was sorry. When you came to me and Sean that day, we didn't know, that she would...you know, we weren't trying to be, dismissive, we just didn't know...I'm sorry.

You ever hear something that you didn't know you needed to hear but when you do a huge weight is lifted from your shoulder. I must admit that is what I felt when he said this too me. He validated my loss and grief and sadness while validating her existence and impact in my life. I wanted to cry when he apologized because i felt so alone and unsupported that week when i thought she'd gone missing and there I was because comforted and held together by another friend who is stepping into help me deal with this loss.

We safely made it to my house, where i finally let go of his arm and thank him for walking me home. He wished me a goodnight not before saying that in the morning I'd probably feel like shit and that:

whatever you feel you've lost (writing wise) since her death will resurface. It'll be different maybe but it hasn't gone away. Start from where you are now. You'll find your way back to writing again.


And I feel like that goes for everything in my life these days. Everything, absolutely, everything I thought about life, love, friendship, death and myself has all changed since Marie died. Since her death I feel like I've been dropped off in some strange, new, world where i have no other choice but to adjust too the new things around me. Some days it is easy. Some days it is hard. But eventually i hope that on the other side of this grieving process I find myself back to a version of me that's renewed, a tad different, essenstially the same, forever shaped by the time i had with her.

I just got to start healing from this point. The point where the cracks have yet healed.

I miss her everyday. I miss us everyday. And that fact that it's been three months since she died is unbelievable. But i'm getting better. I feel stronger. Sometimes fragile. But better. I know this much at least.

Beckett the Vampire Slayer.

So I may not have gotten a Buffy tattoo but guess who got a vampire slaying kit for her birthday.

This chick. I'm in awe.

Le Boy did not make this for me.Though i guess the original vampire stake ( my first and most important one) he made was the inspiration for this kit that a good friend of mine put together.

It's an all out slayer kit, with everything a slayer would need to well, slay things. A cross necklace, a few stakes, 'holy' water and garlic!


I knew in advance that I was getting a vampire kit for my birthday. But the final product turned out better than i expected. He even threw in two books about vampires so i can read up on them, just in case, i should run into one.

I love that my friends indulge me in my Buffy obsession.

I love that I have friends.

Today was good. I hope my days continue to get better.

My Birthday in a Nutshell

What an extraordinary, tiring, emotional draining though euphoric birthday week i had. I don't think I've ever felt this loved and appreciated by people before. I am a little worn out and exhausted after everything but of course I managed to take some pictures in between the celebrating.

My mom bought me a Kindle! Sure, I've been a little weary about getting an e-reader because I am fiercely in love with actual books but did you know you can borrow books from the library on an e-reader? I didn't. It's the coolest thing ever, especially because going to the library has been a little awkward this days (it's a long story).

I also got my first tattoo. Kat took me on Thursday and I am now the owner of a paper crane on my wrist. I still intend on getting a Buffy tattoo but the (paper) crane symbolizes endurance (among other things) and that is something I've learned that I possess these last few weeks. So i decided to get that as my first tattoo instead. It's a really awesome tattoo. A small and feminine paper crane captured in flight. I'm in love.

I was a little upset with Sean this week because he failed to wish me a happy birthday. No text, no dumb facebook comment. Nada. When I got to work on Saturday, I was a little peeved about this. It's not like he didn't know it was my birthday. He's asked me repeatedly what I wanted. I brought it up to him several times so that he'd have no excuse. And yet March 1st came and went without anything from Le Boy.

Sometime during my shift on Saturday he pulled me aside to wish me a happy birthday (finally) and he also apologized for not reaching out on the actual day. It's pretty hard being mad with him when he's around so I said it was okay, that i wasn't that upset at him anyway. He wanted to see me tattoo and after teasing him about what I got I showed him my crane and he was completely smitten with it. He held my wrist in his hand for a solid minute or so, turning it back and forth in his hands.

Sean: how much did it cost?

Me: 50 bucks. But I was expecting to spend more

Sean: Did someone help you pay for it?

Me: No. Why would someone do that?

Sean: Because then it could be their birthday gift to you, some people do that.

Me: I didn't think of that. I should have huh, would have saved me fifty bucks.

Sean: It could be my present to to you. Let me give you the money back that you spent on that tattoo. You said 50, right? Then the crane could be my gift to you. If you want.

I was dumbfounded. He offered/wanted to pay for my tattoo! It was sweet and caught me off guard and I was tempted to say 'sure, that would be the most awesome gift you could give to me'. But I have an issue with taking money from friends/crushes/potential boyfriend material. And I like looking down at my wrist and knowing that this was a gift to myself for my birthday. I like the ownership and bond i have with my new ink.

So i had to decline his sweet offer but instead said that he could take me food shopping one day with the money he would have given me for the tattoo. He said that was a fair enough trade. Me. Sean. In a supermarket. Cart and all. I look forward to it.

My friends and family were complete gems this year. From Monday to Last Night, everyone went out of their way to make sure my birthday felt spectacular. And it did. I had cupcakes and meatball sandwiches, torchwood marathons and Buffy gifts. I didn't feel alone and unwanted or devalued once. I was surrounded by people who love and care for me as much as I do them.

It was a perfect week outside of the obvious missing link to my happiness, but I enjoyed every minute of my 26th birthday I have so much to say and so many pictures to upload but i am uber exhausted and drained and hungover (another long ass story) to do so tonight.

Luckily I have the next three days off, so I'll be able to re-tell every amazing detail from this week.

~Beckett

Celebrations.

My birthday is tomorrow. March 1st. I'll be 26 years old. Boy oh boy, how time flies.

I'm not going to lie the days leading up to my birthday have been rough. It is the first birthday in 13 years that I've spent without Marie. And knowing this has made me weary of any and all celebrations.

Her death has altered me. You can never prepare for something like this and i am surprised by how I have dealt with my grief these last few months. I am stronger and more resilient than i thought, I am just as fragile and delicate as I've tried to downplay.

But i haven't been able to suppress how weird and sad it is and will be to celebrate my big day without her. I miss her every day. I think about her every day. And I wish that she knew how much she meant to me. And I wish that people could understand how extraordinary she was and why her death and my loss will not be things I can easily overcome.

I've been filled with guilt this week for having to continue on without her but I simply don't have a choice, no matter how difficult it is for me to do so. And this week has been sort of overwhelming because all eyes are on me. Instead of ushering in another year with only my mom, Maire and a few friends remembering my special day everyone seems to know about my birthday and have plans to celebrate it with me.

Yesterday my aunt and baby cousin took me on a girls day adventure around town. I spent today at my friends house celebrating my special day with pizza, cupcakes and an awesome Buffy present. Tomorrow, the big day, I'm getting my first tattoo and then off to the city with Kat. Friday another gathering of small friends to receive presents and drink lightly.

And i am overwhelmed/joyed by all the love. Just three/four years ago I was a very depressed college senior with little to no social life. I felt alone and misunderstood and unsure what a future for a girl like me would look like. I'm still not sure. Especially now that Marie is gone. But figuring it out each day has been the challenge I need I guess to realize what is best for my life now.

And I can't get over how different life is these days for me. I am so different. My wants are so new. And the change is beautiful and painful. And as I sit here, hours away from my special day I am grateful, sad, weary and elated for another year with great friends and family. I don't think I would have made it this far without them and without this space (and your support) to share my thoughts and life with.

I hope everyone has a great March 1st. All of you will be in my thoughts as I celebrate another year.

~Beckett

Horseplay Fail 101.

Guess who twisted her wrist at work?

This chick.

To make a long story short I may have been playing around with a cart load of books and twisted it as I was running down the aisle. My wrist went flying around the corner with the cart, while my body remained in place and now I am nursing a pretty annoying twisted wrist but a wicked awesome wrist wrap.

Unfortunately I injured the right wrist (my writing hand) and it's been a pain to utilize my left hand more while my other one gets better. Everyone says I should go to the doctor, just to get it checked out, but hospitals make me nervous these days and I'm sure he/she will just put me on an advil like medicine, re-wrap my wrist, and tell me to take it easy. And, I'll be charged a crap-load of money.

Yesterday Sean attempted to soothe said wrist with his hot/cold treatment. He said he use to do this treatment when his wrist gave him trouble. He'd submerge it in ice water for 60 seconds, remove his hand and then run it under warm water for 30 seconds. He'd repeat this four or five times until his wrist felt better or until he couldn't bear the cold anymore. I wasn't really buying this technique and he most have seen how nervous I was to try this because he offered to do it with me so that i didn't feel alone.

We escaped to the cafe, way in the back where the sinks and dishes are (away from customers) and he filled the sink halfway with water, pouring two scoops of ice in to chill it. He asked me if I was ready to put my hand in and I told him not really (shit looked cold) so he told me to concentrate on my breathing, put my hand in only when I was ready because he would put his hand in a second later and he would count me down from 60 to 0 the whole way.

Before this, i asked him how the wrist healing method felt so i could prepare myself mentally for the pain. And he said ' it's like stepping in snow with no shoes on'. And he was right. The water was freezing and my wrist felt like it was going to fall off when it settled in to the ice. The water sort of brought the short, sharp, pains to the surface and I regretted agreeing to his method the moment i started. But we did the cold/hot water thing for 10 minutes. Dunking, icing, rinsing, repeat, only taking a small break when i told him i needed one. And he even counted down (every time), very slowly, and softly until we hit zero saying 'you've got this' when i grimaced.

By the end of the whole thing, I'm not sure my wrist felt any better but it was nice, that for 10 minutes he placed his hand in the water with me. That even though his wrist isn't all junked up like mine he didn't want me to endure it alone. And sure my wrist only feels a little bit better but those ten minutes were totally worth it.

I've been doing my own lazy form of icing, warming and massaging le sad wrist since then but it still hurts like crazy. And I'm still refusing to go to the doctor. But if it doesn't feel better I'll have to get it checked out. I can't go walking around in a wrist brace for the rest of my life. Even if it is fun telling people that i injured myself in more adventurous ways than the lame truth.

Beckett

~Oh and i bought some boots for my birthday. My wrist may feel like shit but my feet are well enough to wear this beauties.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Slow Days. They are Super.

Sorry to be documenting my life these days via pictures. But some days I find writing about myself more difficult then taking pictures. It's not that I don't have the words to put down on 'paper' but i get weary by the weight of my words. Especially because I am consumed with grief and longing and a desire to return to life post Marie's death. Especially because I am also, slowly, accepting the changes around me that have come with such as great loss.

Surprisingly, out of the pain and depression and sulky days, I'm becoming a young lady. I am finding my voice and desires and am blossoming to some form of potential I never knew i possessed. I'm finally getting use to my own skin and while it is a terrifying transition it feels long over due.

While internally i often feel fragile and a delicate and in between broken pieces and shards of glass, I continue, everyday, despite the apprehension and loneliness and fear and grief, to get up. I continue to find things that I love and I work from there. Some days are harder than others. But I try.


Last Wednesday I had a mini breakdown because I realized my birthday is less than 3 weeks ago. I'll be 26 years old and Marie and I planned our countdown to the year of Awesome to commence on my birthday. I haven't spent one without her since I was 13 years old. I already know that when midnight strikes on March 1st I will miss her more than ever because she always sent a 'i was the first once to wish you a happy birthday' text.

My birthday use to be this thing Marie hyped me up about. She'd playfully talk about it on the phone like a child whose own birthday was just around the corner. She is no longer here to do this and the sulky part of me wishes that this year, anyway, that my birthday could just be another day on the calendar.

But so many of my work friends are aware that my birthday is around the corner. It may have something to do with Kat going around and telling everyone, but regardless, the attention has been a little overwhelming. I am not use to people remembering my birthday. I am not use to them wanting to take me out and wish me into another year. It makes me sad, happy too, but said.

Sean came up to me the other night and said 'so, what do you want me to get you for your birthday?'.

And I sort of stared at him like 'how do you know my birthday is coming up'. I mean yes, we are on good terms these days. I like him more than I should. The other night he drove a friend and I home as he does most nights. In the parking lot he took a minute to gather his book bag and groceries on the trunk of his car. I was sitting in the back, legs snuggled up again his sweatshirt and as I turned around to put my seat belt on I couldn't stop staring at his face through the glass. He was lost in the act of re-shuffling his items, off in his own head of this goes here, this goes there and I loved his face then. In a dumb schoolgirl way. I loved his face.

But we are still just work buddies. He does nice things for me occasionally. I listen to him intently. But he isn't mine. And maybe that's why when he brought up getting me something for my birthday I just starred at him with this incredulous look on my face. So he repeated the question again 'Beckett, seriously what do you want for your birthday?'

"I don't know. Surprise me. Make me something. I'm not use to having more than one person remember my birthday, so even, just saying Happy Birthday will be nice'

And that's sort of the truth when it comes to everyone. Just to have people remember that it's my special day will be nice. I'm not asking for much.

Outside of the birthday sadness, I'm doing okay. I'm working on crafts and listening to music and coloring mandalas in the morning. My mom recently bought me a sewing kit and maybe I'll learn to make something pretty. And as a pre-valentines day present to myself i book this awesome geekcraft book! There is a Buffy inspired craft inside that I am all too excited to begin. The busier I am, the better I feel. And I like creating things. I forgot how excited it is to start a project from scratch and finish it.

My days now revolve around getting up, drinking tea, reading books and dancing. Oh, and an occasional back seat photo shoot of my boots and leggings in my crushes car. I'm comfortable with this. I am making things comfortable out of the pain.

And I must admit that it ain't perfect and I'm sort of being selfish these days but i am terribly okay with that.

~Beckett

Different Version of Me.

My body has finally had enough.









Whatever bug is going around these days has totally found me and i feel ickly. sickly. gross. ickly. sickly.











I made the mistake of going to the Bronx today (hair appointment) despite feeling like crap and I am paying the price. Because the weather has been spring like, i wore a very light jacket. No scarf. No gloves. No hat. Of course today it was freezing out. windy and cold. Now i feel worse than I did when i woke up.


I've been a little tense these last few weeks with everything that is going on with my life. I can't say I'm sleeping or eating well these days. Yesterday I may have only had a pop tart and soda. I simply go from feeling hungry all the time to 'did i eat...who forgets if they ate'. And on the sleep end, I'm getting little of it though i am always in bed. Last night was the first night I've actually managed to sleep with the lights off. The silence and darkness still terrify me (and there isn't a cute boy next to me to distract me) so i usually keep my TV on the Disney channel until i pass out.


My body is just exhausted and I think that is why I'm feeling under the weather.


The store has cut hours drastically and I am working two days next week. TWO! Luckily, or surprisingly, I'm doing okay with money (and may have a new job in the works!) so I look forward to my light week and sleeping /watching netflix and trying to get better next week in more ways than one I guess.







I've been feeling really conflicted by everything lately. On the bus/train/walk home I realized that in 4 weeks, I'll be turning 26. It'll be the first birthday without Marie, who made a point of always being the first to call me at midnight. I'll also be the same age that she was when she decided to end her life. This birthday will be weird. There is no way around it.







Since she died, everything i thought i wanted for my life at 25/26 has completely changed. What I want for myself and what I want from the people in my life has new meaning. It's weird. Occasionally I'll check the stat features on this blog and I find it very interesting that one of the most read entries is the one I wrote about turning 20 ('the perks of being 20' i called it). I wrote that post more five years ago and i still get comments on it. I only bring it up because at 20 i remember wanting to have everything figured out. I wanted to be this mature person who had relationships and goals in check.





Now the only thing I want is to be happy even though 'happy' is this new thing. I'm okay not having everything figured out. I'm okay trying to find what I'm passionate about. I'm happy spending my mornings sewing or dancing or singing loudly. The anxiety about 'myself' has lessened. But i worry, that now that the world and experiences I'm ready to be apart of have all but abandoned me. Especially since I've spent so much time shunning it.

Like when Sean made me that stupid vampire stake (am i just being a dumb stupid school girl or was his gesture as sweet as i think it is? Because I'm smitten by the whole gift to be honest), which I have since kept on my desk and stared at from afar in awe and confusion...I thought in my romantic state 'I'd like to date a thoughtful boy like that(who was, um, single). I'd like to be in a relationship where i could be strange and unusual. I'd like to be loved and understood by someone who would make me a vampire stake because he had the resources too'.


But i fear that I'll never feel like I deserve those things. Even now, I feel stupid for liking the gift so much because, often, i feel like a girl like me doesn't deserve it. Marie's death has felt like a rejection of my (our) weirdness ever being anything someone could love and endure. This is what makes me angry at her for killing herself. Sure the pain and grief are unbearable. Sure there are days when I am completely blindsided by the fact that she isn't here. But mainly I'm upset because my better half's death is like a rejection of how proud I thought we were to be different and complicated and unique.

Because I was (am) finally coming around to my strangeness. and introversion. and complications. And I was (am) finally starting to be okay with that. But i don't know how to allow people into my world especially since the one and main person who occupied it is no longer here. She was my champion of weird. We'd talk for hours about how frustrating it was to be outsiders but how we were going to prove to ourselves that our version of life was more interesting.

But with her suicide I suddenly have to learn how to be okay with my strange ways alone and try to find people to relate too while also learning to accept the people who love me just as I am.

My version of happiness, these days, is rooted in my attempt to feel worthy of the good that comes into my life. To know that i can make my vision of my future this tangible and maybe lovely thing. That I can have a career all my own that i enjoy. I can have boy all my own whose hair I can ruffle. I can have friends who enjoy playing scrabble and reading nerdy books. I can have all these things, i tell myself everyday. I can. Because i want them more than anything else. But it doesn't mean that i am not anxious about my sudden desire (and need) to create something out the hole that she's left. Not because I want to fill her space but because I don't have a choice but to.

I'm different. That's a fact. The changes stare back at me from the mirror. It's me you see, same eyes and nose and mouth, but altered in some way that i just can't pinpoint. And if i could make peace with the girl I've was then in order to grasp this girl I'm becoming, I'd feel less torn by everything. And less exhausted.

But alas, that's where the tension and conflict arise.

Simple Pleasures.

I am trying to be okay again. I am trying to be okay with needing to be okay again. That is my life these days.



Last week Marie's mom and I sent a couple of text messages back and forth to see how the other is doing. She is sad. devastated. and struggling to cope with Marie's death. As I am. She said people at work are trying to help her through this but she wishes they would stop. As do I. She said she misses Marie every day. As do I.



I feel guilty for not actually 'talking' to her mother these last six weeks. I've wanted to. I've even tried several times (at the last minute deciding not to). Because while texting is a form of communication it is so impersonal and I know talking to her mom will help. But I'm not strong enough, at the moment, to speak. I'm not strong enough to hear my voice talk about Marie in past tense. It is hard enough talking about Marie to my mom. It is even harder trying to write about her. I can't imagine, at this moment, hearing her mother's voice or having to hear my own talk about how much I miss her.





Because, while I am getting 'better', I am still very angry and fucking pissed that Marie killed herself. Everything reminds me of her, and what she could have been, and what has been lost now that she's gone. I can be a very difficult person because of this. I am sometimes sullen. moody. and down-right livid.

I am angry at girls who can smile and laugh and have dumb conversations about things and still fit in (like *dumb stupid face co-worker who I loathe* who represents everything Marie and I felt made us strange) while my interesting complicated, stubborn best friend is gone. We were strange together. And unique together. And different together. And I am troubled by her loss because it feels like a rejection of the things we valued. And this is where I get so upset I want to smash things.

My bad days are fewer than my good but when they are bad they suck.



But I am trying to counter my negativity as much as I can. I've been supplementing the depression and grief with spontaneity and self discovery. I trying new things and re-evaluating what makes me happy . I am being selfish and self indulgent and concerned with creating something out of my grief. There was a time, when I thought I was suppose to have things all figured out by 25. I've all but erased that thought from my head. For the moment, I am not interested in that. For the moment i want to wear skirts and take drum lessons and be emotionally available to people. I want to get a tattoo and learn how to dance and take a trip somewhere really far away. I'm okay with just experiencing things.

And I'm not sure how long this pursuit for simple pleasures will last. I'm not sure when or if I'll feel the need to buckle down and go back to the job worrying and writing worrying and general life worrying. For now I just want to find things that make me happy and focus my energy on that.

It's not easy. By any means. But I don't have a choice. I just don't. So I'm sewing (i totally made those flags!) and taking pictures and heading to the city more often these days. I've decided to get a buffy tattoo for my birthday. Just the "B" on my wrist because Buffy represents strength and survival and kickassness.
I've also been 'hanging' out with people. Or trying to. When I'm up for up, I'm making myself available for the occasional outing and human interaction. I've had several diner dates with friends where french toast is usually consumed. And I've played awkward drunk scrabble games until 2am. Angie came up last weekend and we just drank raspberry beer and talked about our lives and Star Trek and ate a lot of food.
And last night Sean, another co-worker (Dylan) and I met at a mutual friends apartment so we could watch some Pay Per View wrestling match (royal rumble) that she has been talking about for weeks. I don't know much about wrestling but she said there would be pizza and drinks and cupcakes and naturally I was sold. And everyone i know seems to be into the campiness that is men, wearing little to no clothing, rolling around in a rink performing wrestling moves with weird names.

I've debated going to this thing for weeks now; mainly because Sean and I continue to have our ups and downs. We sometimes argue like friends, sometimes we argue like two people dating. Regardless I am often attracted and aggravated with him. But this week we've been on good terms and I was looking forward to hanging out with him outside of the bookstore.

And surprisingly we had a really good time. Some guy in really tight underwear won the Big Match and I ate a lot of pizza. Sean and I sat next to each other on the lovesick where i curled up in the corner and rested my feet on his legs (it was nice. wrong. but nice).

Sean was polite and funny and considerate the whole night and totally into the wrestling match. It felt nice to be around people so excited about dumb things. And every once in a while, just watching them (Dylan, Miranda, Sean), made me feel less sad and less strange and less lonely.

At the end of the night, Sean drove a very tipsy Dylan and I home (mike's lemonade is no joke). Before we entered Sean's car though Dylan noticed something in the back seat.

Underneath a jacket or shirt behind the passenger seat was a small wooden object that jutted out from the rest of the crap in his car. I couldn't see what Dylan was staring at but it definitely caught his attention.

"dude is that a fucking stake in your car?"

Now it's dark outside and really late and we are all sort of tired and Sean looks all sorts of adorable in this black leather jacket and his scruffy facial hair and suddenly he looks exasperated at the sound of Dylan's voice and stake inquiry.

"just get in the car" he says, trying to unlock the car so he can open the doors for the rest of us.

"dude, you totally have a stake in your car"

So now I'm all interested and peering into the car and i too see the wooden stake peeking out but am not putting two and two together, even tho Sean is visibly pissed at Dylan for bringing it up.

"You're such an asshole man, I was going to wait until later and surprise her....thanks".

The motherfucker made me a vampire stake.

My very own vampire stake.

Holy Crap!

Sure it's dumb and silly and not practical but it's mine. and he made it for me though he didn't have to. And i love it. Absolutely love it.

And like my life these days, the stake and the diner's and the scrabble games and human interaction are things that I suddenly need to be a part of because i want to be a part of them. I need, more than ever, very subtle, simple, uncomplicated pleasures to keep me going. I need them to remind me that in some weird way the life that i am creating for myself can still have value and meaning and be lovely through the pain and loss.

Tomorrow A Real Post.....

.... I promise.

I've been away: mentally, emotionally and physically. but i'm okay. and alive. and watching a lot of Vampire Diaries on Netflix these days. which is where i found this song. i can't stop listening to it. it's sort of my life in a nutshell these days.

but i am getting better. i sort of had a breakdown yesterday (again) but for the most part i am holding up well. i'd write more if i weren't so tired but spending the day at work not helping customers and talking to my co-workers is a hard job. tomorrow tho, i promise. a real post. a real update.

~Beckett

How to be a Alive.

The days are sort of flying by and I do not know how i feel about this.

Life, for the most part, is returning to normal. I am no longer whispered about at job ('what's wrong with Beckett'), my grief and sadness, have been replaced by every one's sense of personal disappointment, agitation or own personal going- ons. It's sort of like the last few weeks have been brushed under some invisible carpet. The people around me know that something is array, that i am different, a little more jaded, angry and distant but they do not bring it up for fear of revealing the mess underneath my facade.

Outside of Saturday when i sort of allowed myself to be sad in front of Sean (even if he couldn't feel me crying against him), I have closed myself off emotionally from letting people into my head. It's my safety net. I have always felt responsible for other people's comfort. I am better at listening and consoling and healing others than I am at addressing my own issues. It's the very avoidance part of my personality I am not proud of. I don't like dealing with personal issues straight on. I don't know how to be the person needing to talk and/or helped.

I talked about this in therapy once or twice. There was this one week when I felt sad, soon after my dad had a heart attack, and I was reluctant to tell my therapist about what was going on. During our whole session i was vague and less willing to talk about what i was feeling. When I finally got around to revealing how distraught I was over his hospitalization (followed by crying hysterically) we talked about my unwillingness to let people console me during times of stress. That it is normal to confide in people and be open about my issues to those willing (and wanting) to help. That shutting off isn't healthy. And while I know all of this, my hesitation to do so in the past and now more than ever, has a lot to do with me not wanting to burden people with my own pain.

I want to talk about Marie. I want to be honest and open about our relationship and what it feels like now that she is gone. I want to talk about the depression and the anxiety and the longing I have to be the girl I was before she died. I can't sleep with the lights off anymore. The silence and darkness terrify me. I'm eating a lot these days but losing weight like a parasite is coursing through my body. I'm more aggressive and cranky. Short tempered and unforgiving. And because i am unwilling to be emotionally available to people I've sort of been seeking comfort out physically.

I'm not whoring it out of course; but the truth is, if I would have had the 'experience' prior to her death, I'm not sure how healthy my relationship/boundaries with men would be (fuck, i hate admitting that). I feel so disconnected lately. From everything and everyone. While there was a time a few weeks ago where having anyone touch me caused severe stomach aches, it's been different these days. I crave intimacy because i feel it will distract me. Or remind me what it feels like to be a person and to be wanted. It has little to do with sex but more to do with that jolt of connection i need to remind myself that I exist even if for a moment.

And I have not acted on this. I would never act on this. But it's a part of the burden and mystery of my grief that I am not able to explain to people. How I've gone from being this girl before my best friend killed herself to the girl i am now. Because they are two different people (the was and am). There is no way around it. Everything i ever thought about love, life, happiness and my own depression have been altered by this experience and I don't even have anyone to talk to this about. And the few people in my everyday life who have offered comfort have no idea how to help me.

Kat tries. She's stepping up in the friend department. She is understanding and forgiving of my sullen ways. She invites me to do things and lets me talk about Marie when i want. But I don't want to crowd her life. She has friends from way back when and doesn't need me being clingy because I don't have many. Sean tries. But there isn't anything more he can do than embrace me. And be there if and when I decide to actually come to him. He asks if I'm okay when he sees me drifting away. He is present and all consuming. I like the idea of his strength. That he wants so badly to fix things. That he is frustrated by his inability to do so. But he has a girlfriend. He has a way of life. And despite our weird attraction and attachment to one another he has someone to take care of that isn't me.

I am suddenly faced with the real task of building relationships with people. Real healthy solid ones, because I know I would find great comfort in them. But I am a complicated girl these days and that seems a hard task to take on (though I'm trying). I am getting better however. I know that i won't be blue my whole life. And I know that I'll be able, maybe, one day to make peace with her death. But it isn't easy. Everything reminds me of her. I sit down to write and i realize I use to talk to her about my story ideas. I laugh and suddenly miss the sound of hers. I feel guilty for having to go on and smile and try to connect with people. There was a time where just having her as my friend was enough. I didn't care that I didn't have many other people to go to. I didn't care that I lacked a boyfriend or at least a warm body to fold into. She was my home. She was my comfort.

And i feel widowed by her loss because we were deeply connected due to our strangeness. I loved and some days hated her. She was my best friend and sometimes worst enemy but she was my mine; however complicated that friendship was. I have not been the easiest girl to handle lately. The sadness comes and goes so quickly that some days it is hard to breathe. But i am trying to rebuild my life now that she's gone. I am making plans and forming relationships (that are healthy and stable). I have a drunk scrabble tournament to attend tomorrow night (it's scrabble and drinking!) with co-workers. Angie (memba' her) is coming up from DC next week so we can hang out in the city all weekend. And Kat and I are going to Brooklyn in two weeks to watch an indie movie and stare at art.

My life continues to go on. Sometimes the grief stops me cold and I am consumed with fear and anxiety but i continue to get up and breathe and live. I continue to try and function like a real human being with hopes and dreams and desires,because one day, hopefully soon, I can feel like one again before life became so strange.

~Beckett

Oh noes!

I may have seriously almost kissed Sean tonight. Or at least wanted to. Or at least had the opportunity to and almost (almost) allowed myself to take advantage of the moment.

Grief has made me a strange girl. I am parts distant and aloof and unwilling to let anyone into my world of sadness and loneliness. This is of course is the very internal side of my life these days. I cry on the way home, I try to keep thoughts about Marie at bay in public, and I worry a lot about the future. I am struggling to understand what my life will look like now that she is gone. I spent most of my day off Thursday crying because I felt guilty for being happy. "James Franco" made me a book ( a honest to god book with a spine and graph paper and a fabric cover) because he wanted me to have a book that I could write my thoughts down in.

And it made me happy, that out of everyone he decided to make me (and kat) a gift. And my gift was a reflection of what he knows about me. And i felt happy, generally happy because he didn't have to make me anything. Why did he make me anything? But for some reason soon after he gave me the gift, I felt guilty and sad because I don't know when it will feel right to be happy about things. I mean sure, i laugh and smile and make jokes, but when will it okay to accept the good in my life, despite this tragedy.

That's what my days are like these days. I am returning back to normal on my terms but the life i new before her death and the one I am leading now are conflicted and struggling to make sense together. In order to handle Marie's death I've been sort of distancing myself from the anxious, self doubting, over-thinking girl who represented that half of our friendship. Marie was such an huge component of my life. I went to her for everything. I rarely made a decision without going to her for approval. And now that she's gone, it feels like I kind of have to figure things out by myself.

And instead of being scared about change, I've sort of been jumping at the opportunity to try new things because it distracts me from my grief. It still has a hold on me but i feel in control of it when I do something the 'me' before her death would have strayed away from. I've been wearing skirts to work and being more assertive about my opinions. I am initiating conversations and going with the flow. I am even being a little more impulsive too, like going in for a tattoo pricing to see how much a Buffy tattoo will cost (it's a small, final girl: the one who survives the scary movie, tribute I'm getting ) Yeah. More about that later.


And everyone around me is taking note of this 'new' beckett. "You look/sound/are so different these days" my friends and mom have commented on and they would be right. There will always be the 'me' that was before Marie died and the 'me' that is coming into her own now that out of the two peas in a pod i am the only one that remains. And I don't know how i feel about this. I feel like this 'new' me that everyone is taking note of is compensating for this loss. I am trying to figure out who I am now that my other half is gone and I am bound to make a few mistakes and/or bad decisions along the way.

Today might have been one of those bad decisions that I will learn from.

Sean and I have been a terrible mess of arguing, not arguing, 'I want to confide in you', 'you can't help me at all' friends lately. While I only see him a couple of days a week, I have taken my grief out on him a lot more than others because I sort of feel like he can handle it. Part of it has to do with his physicality. He's a well built, strong, masculine guy who makes a point of being macho around me. His job consists of building and breaking down things, lifting and carrying shit. Fixing and putting together objects. And because i am an emotional wreck lately I have a tendency of equating his ability to fix broken things to my own current state.

So i test him. I have in the last few weeks put him through the ringer. I can be cold and distant one moment and then desperately wanting to tell him how I am really feeling . And he's been a champ about it. I mean as much as he can towards a girl who is not his girlfriend. As long as I tell him how I am doing the moment we see each other he is receptive to my feelings. He doesn't push me to talk about anything I don't want to and while he isn't good at dealing with my sadness when I do come to him, he makes sure to let everyone else around me know that I am not in the mood.

And this new, weird relationship that we have is very confusing. Because I am not sure if I am acting out in regards to my attraction to Sean because I'm in this sad place or if it's because i generally like him and trust him and he's been very patient with me these last few weeks. And I know that he has a girlfriend, so i try with all my might to be a platonic as possible despite my actual feelings for him.

Today was going to be one of my cold/distant days towards him. Our newish store manager was being a dick the whole day and I had the 'pleasure' of putting up 12 new shelves in the kids department because it's a part of a large project that I'm sort of in charge of. Five hours of hearing new managers mouth and dragging shelves from the back, taking down old ones, and then putting up new ones put me in a very cranky mood. I was dirty and sweaty and ready to go home when I bumped into Sean as I was putting the measuring tape back into the managers office. I grumbled 'hello' when i saw that he was clocking in but walked out when he called after me because i didn't want to be pulled in for a 'minute to long' hug. I just wanted to clock out and go home.

But he said my name again and when I turned around to deny him a hug, i knew immediately that something was wrong. His face was all red and he could barely look at me and he kept ushering me over with his hang (our hug motion). And when I finally came over he buried my face in his chest and I could feel his heart beating so fast. I kept asking what's wrong but he wouldn't say anything and because we were standing in front of co-workers I dragged him into the hallway, away from them, so he would tell me.

When we pulled away, he was barely holding back the tears. Long story short, he is having a lot of issues with his family (mainly his dad) and they(dad and him) almost came to blows today. He was pacing the hallway between the break room and the backroom (where only employees are allowed) as he struggled to get the words out, so i suggested we go into hallway leading to receiving where no one could see us.

And the moment we are out of sight from managers or customers he can't hold back how frustrated his is. I don't think I've ever seen a boy cry before. Not outside of family members. And I was a little taken aback because he's the strong one, you know. I'm just the sad girl, who doesn't open up to people, who feels alone and afraid now that her pod is gone.

And i can tell he's struggling to tell me what is going on. But he does, outside of trying to hold back his tears. And this is when I take a seat on some boxes nearby, and listen intently. And I don't know what to do because i can't fix it or him or me or life. So I let him cry, in his weird boy crying way. After a while, he goes from being sad to angry at his dad and i can tell he wants to now punch something or curse. And, I don't know if saying anything will make him feel better. Because words have not helped me these last few weeks.

So, in a very surprising move, I just wave him over. I tell him to come over to me. In between his cries (and growing anger) I just, put my hand out and tell him to come over so that i can hold him. It's all I can do because it feels right. And he does. He takes me hand, and he pulls me up from where I'm sitting and brings me into his chest and he cries, and he's shaking and he's apologizing because:

"you've, like, lost someone really important and everything I'm feeling like now pales in comparison. but I'm so fucking miserable"

So then I start shaking, and i let out a sigh (because this is the first time he has brought up what I've been going through without me mentioning it)that turns into a cry that i muffle back into a

'it's okay, I don't want you to think you can't come to me because of what I've been going through. I just kind of need you to be okay because i don't know how to make this better. And I'm scared and freaking out because I don't know if this is helping'

So then he tells me not to be scared and he's stroking me hair and I'm listening to his heartbeat and we remain like that for the next few minutes and when we finally pull away there is like this moment where....

...I wanted to be happy. And I wanted not be sad. I wanted him not to be sad. And I almost ignored reason and my own moral code so that we could connect.

But I didn't. Because I immediately felt guilty for whatever had just occurred. So I patted his stomach, and smiled awkwardly and told him everything was going to be okay and that we should probably get out of the hallway.

And we sort of left on that note. I told him to stay calm as to get through the night and he thanked me for listening. And then, naturally i cried on the way home because I don't understand who the hell I am anymore or what the hell I'm doing or why I've let myself become so attached to him. Or who I am now that grief is such a huge part of my life.

What the hell? This makes me a sort of bad person right? Shit.

Before I left, Sean halfheartedly said (after I told him if he needed anything he knew where to find me) that he wished he could come to my house later after work 'you know, just drive up at 1am in the morning, to talk, but that would be crazy right'. Yes! It would be crazy and stupid and kind of nice but stupid and crazy and dumb and impulsive. And I hate that i feel so impulsive these days. And I hate that I always told him too.

Ugh, I don't know what I'm doing. Everything feels so weird and strange. And I wish I had my best friend here to help me through the feelings I'm feeling and the sadness I don't know how to heal and the grief that is changing me into a person neither better or worse.... but different.

End Rant :/

Hanging in There.

I haven't been able to post in a while.

Work, people, and general anxiety is all consuming lately.

I have a day off tomorrow and outside of grabbing lunch with Heather, I will finally be able to write again. I feel like I can only say what I want to say in words.

I am holding up okay but talking about my grief to other people is not an option. Which is sort of making it hard to get through this. I feel guilty for being sad around people, especially after being so mean and distant towards them the week after her death.

I was angry because I felt like no one understood what I was going through and their attempts at consoling me (pulling me in for hugs, telling me that I could come to them for anything) wasn't enough. Because the only thing that would fix the situation s impossible for anyone to do. So i sulked an pushed people away and unplugged for awhile.

And I guess for a while it made it easier because I can't stand the look on my friends faces when I tell them that Marie killed herself. It is a mix of pity and sorrow and a "i don't know how to react to that. imma leave you alone now". The other night Sean, who i profusely apologized to for yelling at, were talking about something or another and I made the mistake of saying 'the person i use to go to for all these life questions is no longer here. it's weird you know'. And for a split second he had no idea what I was talking about so he asked "who's that person....oh (he face then turned red)...I'm sorry, i should have put two and two together, I'm really sorry".

That's how i feel about everything lately. That my life( and grief) is this big open wound that people are a) trying to ignore because it'll bring them down too or b) that they are trying to mend in ways that aren't helping.

And I can't fault them. Most of them have never gone through anything like this. Hell up until three weeks ago neither had I. But I feel alone in trying to understand her life and death. In trying to put together the pieces of our friendship and why she thought this was the only option. I am coping, I am mending, I am putting one foot in front of the other.

But I am a different girl now, forever changed by her death. I'm resilent and strong though fragile and now timid about opening up to people. My opinions about life, love and friendship are all mixed up and I am struggling to understand why love alone isn't enough to cure depression. She was such a huge part of my life that having to plan my life without her is what often stops me in my tracks. Like a punch in the gut, I am out of breath when i realize there will being many moments when I accidently reach for the phone to call her only to remember she isn't here anymore.

This alone is where grief suddenly gets the best of me. I am consumed with sadness and anxiety because I've never considered life without her. There was never this idea in my head that at 25, ushering in the new year, I wouldn't be able to call her and talk about all the possible plans for our future...together. That Marie will only function as a memory now that I guard with my life.

And a Me without Her feels weird. It's doable. It's a reality that I have no other choice but to accept but it's weird, and strange and for a little while a lonely, lonely, lonely existence. Maybe talking to someone about this would help? I thought about going into therapy again but I just don't think I can afford it especially now that the store is cutting hours (as they always do after the holidays). But I've realized in the last few weeks that my friends here aren't equipped to deal with my grief in all it's entirety. Hell, no one is really. They can give hugs and attempt to make me smile and forgive me for being a bitch and dick some days. But what they can't do is help me understand what happens now to my life that my best friend is gone.

I don't think anyone but I can do that. I just don't know how to go about doing it.

Anyway, I got to work to soon. My mom bought me this really comfortable footed pajama's for Christmas and I must say I'd rather stay in bed wearing them all day instead of dealing with customers. But i only work till 7, 'James Franco look-a-like' made me a Christmas present, though he celebrates Hanukkah so maybe it's a late Hanukkah present i don't know, and tomorrow I have a day off. A much needed day off. So today won't be that bad.

I've also been decorating my room (a lot) lately and there is something comforting in making my living space a sanctuary. I finally got my writing/computer desk area together and am now attempting to build a reading nook/corner in my room. Being handy and crafty is my thing now. It's the one change i'm comfortable with this days. Pictures to come soon once i clean up the small solo new years eve party mess i made. Let's just say there was a lot of pizza, apple cider and singing cher loudly into the night...with tears have you. Now my room is gross and smells like leftovers. Ugh.

In Repair.

I returned to work last Saturday (after calling put the day of Marie's memorial)and am now in the mist of holiday shoppers and the suckassness of retail during xmas.




To be honest work, even though i hate it, has been the distraction i need right now. Helping frantic customers, calming down mentally unstable employees and ignoring a certain boy I use to have a crush on, has helped keep my sadness at bay. I am holding up as best as I can after the loss of my best friend. I've had several mini breakdowns at work, gotten into a very regrettable screaming match with Sean (which I will re-tell in detail after Christmas) and wore a skirt the other day (the first time in years) because....I wanted a change.

I've been on auto-pilot these last few days. My emotions are sort of all over the place and to prevent a complete and utter breakdown I, for now, am putting on a very brave face. If you only knew how bad Saturday was, you would understand why this is necessary.


When I say I got into a screaming match with Sean, I really mean, that I was a total and utter bitch to him when he tried to console me about 'the death in my family'. When I walked in on Saturday, everyone knew that I called out because someone very important to me died. No one knew, knows, the extent of the loss but nonetheless I was the topic of much discussion that day. "something is wrong with beckett", "she's not the same" "I wonder what's wrong?"

And I sort of expected this. I am usually very bubbly, affectionate and talkative at work. But Saturday I spent most of the day withdrawn and off to the side. I was polite but distant and my face sort of wore the weight of my depression. A lot of people asked what was wrong and I answered 'i got some bad news from home, but I'm doing okay. I promise". And for some that was enough. For others though, it was sort of a mission to dig the truth out of me and i finally admitted to one co-worker (a friend of sorts) that my best friend, took her life, and that i wasn't holding up well.

After giving me a hug and letting me cry on his shoulder he ran to Sean (who i spent the day avoiding) and told him why I was upset. The moment he found out, he hounded me the rest of my shift. He wanted to pull me in for a hug, and have me talk about what was ailing me, he asked if i was mad at him, and that he wanted to fix whatever was bothering me. Yadda, Yadda, Yadda.

But of course, any attempt for him to console me, was weeks too late. I did come to him when I thought Marie was missing to ask for his advice and he told me to 'do what i did before I knew her". He disregarded my concerns because he didn't know her and doesn't care enough about me as a friend to give a shit about what goes on with me outside of work. He proved then and there that he isn't a true friend of mine or someone I ever want to associate with or come to for anything. And when he was bugging me on Saturday to come to him, I lost it.

I fucking screamed at him (in the receiving part of our store, far far far away from customers). I told him that he couldn't help and that I didn't need him to console me. That i felt like shit and that I did not care to come to him for anything ever. I don't think I have ever been that mad and then mean to someone in my whole entire life. Anger is not a part of who i am, but i must admit that I am full of it these days and i am taking it out on people i tried to confide in who turned me away.

He has never seen that side of me also. And before I could even utter a 'i'm fucking pissed but i didn't mean to blow up at you like that' i heard him walk away. We didn't speak the rest of the day. His face burned read the rest of the shift. I apologized on Sunday, because while grief has brought out anger in me I don't wish to make anyone feel bad. But that doesn't mean I am not disappointed in him or myself for ever wanting him to be something he can't. I still can't get over the fact that I want nothing to do with Sean now. I don't want to talk to him, or hug him or listen to his dumb stories. I want to do what I did before I knew him....I want to exist and go one making connections to people who care about me. And that excludes him.

No one seems to understand that the girl I was before Marie died will never exist again. Sure I will find myself back to the stable happy,bubbly, optimistic girl that I was. That is a given. I will grow older and make friends and be passionate about writing and taking pictures and hugging cute boys. I will exist and go on and cope with my pain because I have people and things to live for. But at the same time, I will feel Marie's absence forever. From time to time I will want to call her and tell her how I am doing. I will want to hear her laugh and recount stories from our youth. I will contemplate why she decided to leave and if there was anything I could have done. But foremost, I will go on living with that constant regret that she isn't here to experience it with me.

Her death has changed me. I feel different. Numb. Broken. Sent out for Repair. I am a walking, talking, seemingly functioning human being who is faking it to the world. I smile and nod and pretend to care because the people around me need me to be the 'former beckett'. The one who hasn't been altered by the death of her friend. They don't need the sad, sullen Beckett. They don't want to know how I am holding up because they know the truth will make them sad too.

And for the most part, putting on the brave face is something I'm okay with doing during this holiday rush. But come Monday I know i will once again be face to face with my own grief and I am terrified by this road to healing. It is necessary but terrifying all the same because I will be left with the 'what happens now' question.

Until then though, Life goes on. I am doing okay, holding up and trying to write as much as I can. A lot of people have stepped up in the friend department and I have been more than grateful for them. I am working tomorrow and Xmas eve and then I am off to my aunts house to spend Christmas with them. Being around my cousin will be good for me. She is darling and inquisitive and made me promise to bake cookies for Santa (i haven't told her yet that i don't know how to bake cookies but we'll figure it out together). She even called yesterday (via begging my aunt) to ask if I was definitely spending Christmas with them. When I said yes, she seemed relieved. Being wanted and needed is comforting, and it is that alone some days that is carrying me through these weeks.

I wanted to wish everyone a happy holiday. I know I've been very depressed lately but your support means a lot. Please enjoy the next few days for me. It will mean the world to me to know that all of you had a very delightful holiday weekend surrounded my friends and family.

~Beckett.

An Unfinished Life.

I made the mistake of going to work yesterday.

I thought after two days of inconsolable crying, insatiable eating and a search for answers regarding Marie's death that I needed to get out of the house. I needed some distraction from the sheer weight of my grief. I spent Wednesday night drafting a letter to her family, explaining how much she meant to me and that I will feel her loss forever. That she will never be replaced but that if I could offer any kind of comfort during this terrible time, I am only a phone call away.


I haven't talked to her family since Tuesday. I want to. I need to. But every time I summon up the courage, I cry. I've cried so much these last few days that I'm getting terrible head pains. I even fucking forgot to eat yesterday. My appetite is endless, I'm compensating I know, but having a full belly is comforting for some reason. My stomach has felt so empty these last few days and food is the only, fleeting, relief. As someone who rarely drinks soda, I have been cradling the bottle (funny, for most people this would be alcohol. me, soda) because the bubbles make me feel full.

Because my appetite has been irregular I can't tell the difference between actual hunger and sorrow hunger (if such a thing exist), and I went the whole day having just consumed two cans of soda and a pretty gross doughnut. I forgot to actually make something for myself to eat. Who forgets to eat. Obviously I am not coping well. I didn't think i'd ever have to go through this form of coping. But I will learn how and it will get easier and I will be strong again. Not today but one day. Until then my appetite is shot to hell.


And I guess this is why I wanted to go to work yesterday. I wanted to attempt get out of bed and away from the hunger and away from the isolation. But I failed miserably.


The moment I walked in everyone knew something was wrong. I carry my emotions on my face and the sadness seeped through. Everyone immediately asked what was wrong: are you pregnant? (I kept clutching my hungry belly, i don't blame this person for asking, though it was not the question i was expecting), Did you break up with your boyfriend? (but i don't have a boyfriend) Did someone beat you up? Did you beat someone up? Can I beat someone up for you? (can you fix a broken heart?purty please).


And this questioning went on my whole shift. My night consisted of 'what's wrong with Beckett' inquiries. I worked, I answered phones, I pretended to be a functioning human being but everyone knew it was all an act. I kept going to the bathroom, every hour it seemed, to cry and would come back with red eyes. My voice quivered a lot. I avoided eye contact. And I fucking forget to eat. I waltz through work like a zombie. I carried Marie in my head and heart all day. I thought about the first time we met (my first day of 7th grade), I thought about prom night and how we attended for two seconds and then got burritos, I thought about how annoying she used to be in movies (she'd talk through the whole damn thing). I thought about our plans for the future which she took to her grave. I thought about my friend, who I'll miss forever.

And while everyone was very concerned for me yesterday they continued (as they should have) to go on with their day. They joked around with one another, made plans for the weekend, complained about life all the while checking in on my every once in a while. And i was jealous and upset and frustrated because just two weeks ago I was one of them, when i didn't know the sheer weight of Marie's hopelessness. What I wouldn't give to be back at the place and time again.

And I am not good with people consoling me. I get terribly emotional and then guilty for burdening them with my ailments. This makes me angry and stubborn. so i push people away who wish to tend to me. I was receptive to some people's attempt of comfort yesterday (i readily accepted hugs and 'i love u, when you are ready to tell me what is wrong, I'm here') but others i refused any sort of comfort from. McAb's mainly.

I unfortunately ran into him just as he (whose real name is Sean) walked in for his shift and the moment he saw me he wanted a hug. But I ignored his request, continued doing what i was doing (looking at the daily assignment sheet) and fought back tears. He called my name again and made a sigh like 'oh you are still being really weird cause you think your friend is missing or some shit'. The sound he made was sheer exasperation, like 'when the hell is she going to get over whatever she is going through'. And grant it save but Blue, no one knows how my search for Marie ended but I didn't want to fucking hug him. I didn't want to be anywhere near him and we he attempted to pull me in for a hug, I nearly became violent.

I don't open up to people much about my life outside of work and I guess my issue and disappointment towards Sean is that when I needed him last week to just listen to my concerns about Marie he told me to 'do what i did before i knew her, move on'. That sentence will play in my mind every time i see him. I know we aren't that close friends, we've rarely hung out outside of work and I couldn't tell you much about his past. I am just one of the many girls he flirts with on a regular basis. I am another chick who helps his ego.

But last week I was looking for a friend in Sean. I put down my own flirty tendencies toward him and simply wanted his opinion. Because I felt Kat was too emotional, and my friend Michelle too unstable. I couldn't go to Blue, then, because he was off working. I went to Sean because he always comes to me for problems and I've been very attentive. And I wanted, needed him, to care enough to listen and be supportive.

And that mother fucker shrugged my concerns off. He didn't know her or didn't care that I thought my best friend was missing (which at the time i thought she was). And when he asked me for a hug yesterday (again in the break room this time), I became so fucking ill. Every bone in my body locked up, i grew rigid and clutched my stomach (which began to hurt) and pulled away from him. But he grabbed my arm anyway (a little to rough for my liking) and asked me what was wrong and that I need to talk to someone about whatever the hell is going on with me, so i pulled away again and backed into a corner and closed my eyes again and told him to go away. "Why won't you talk to me" he kept repeating and all i could do was shake my head. He did leave me alone then, only after someone walked in to the break room for water.

He wouldn't leave me alone after that though. Now sensing that something was wrong, he begged me to talk to him (but i tried and you were no help), that I was being too sad and sullen which was making him miserable (oh, I'm sorry. let me ask you how you are after your best friends shoots herself in her fucking head and leaves a suicide note that resembles a fucking grocery list of what to do once her body after it is found!) that he was there to talk and he would follow me around until i did (can't follow me into the girls bathroom asshole). A part of me wanted to let him know that my gut instinct was right. I wanted to scream and shout at him for being wrong, and for not caring. I wanted to tell him that I KNEW something terrible was wrong with my best friend and I needed him to be some form of support just to make me feel better and he completely disregarded my fears and the thought of him ever touching me again feels like death.

Around 8 o'clock I'd completely lost it. From my frequent bathroom trips where i bawled my eyes out, to dodging concerned co-workers all the while trying to stop myself from vomiting, I called my mom and broke down. I cried loud and hard outside in a corner where no one could see me. I told her that I made a mistake going to work and that I was angry and sad at Marie for what she did and how she felt these last few months. And my mom, who surprisingly kept it together, told me that I have to go through this pain in order to continue living. That maybe I should talk to someone about Marie, about my pain, to take another day to myself to remember her and begin to make peace with life without her.

And the words helped. I cried a little less the rest of the night ( key word: less). Made it through the next two hours of my shift and then cried on the walk home. I never thought I'd join the club of people who'd have to deal with the loss of a loved one by suicide. Especially Marie's. I am literally blindsided by the decision she made to end her life, especially since we spent most of our time talking about the future. About traveling together and meeting boys and settling down and being friends forever. About her being the aunt to my children and the promise she made that if I decided to name my first born daughter Carrick ( i think it's interesting) that she would call her Carrot to taunt me.

This was our year of awesomeness! We talked about getting our acts together and being the secure 20 something year olds ready to take on the world. She wanted to come to New York this summer to visit, I was going to take her to Bleecker Street where all the cute boys roam. I was going to show her a nerdy good time because I knew she needed a nerdy good time.Her act of suicide has all but destroyed those plans and I will forever feel like i am living for two now. I don't know why she thought death was the best alternative. Even when I am in the depths of despair there are things that carry me out of it. My mom, the sound of the wind, sunlight....her. And I can't believe that during her final minutes she couldn't conjure any of that up to stay.

And I am not ashamed of Marie, I am not. But I am struggling to explain her death to people because it was suicide. If she'd die say by cancer or in a car accident or by some crazy homicidal maniac I could place her death on someone else/things shoulder. Instead a part of my grief will forever be marred by anger because she took her life and I am conflicted by feelings of complete and utter grief and anger towards the person i love who decided that that alone wasn't enough to live.

Today is her memorial and I just couldn't make it through work with people asking what was wrong. So I called out and spent the day with my cats. I know the solitude is bad but for today it is necessary. I don't know who I am without Marie. Since I was 12 this girl has been such a huge part of my life. Maybe the problem is that for so long I have felt defined by her existence. She was my voice of reason, my motivator, my link to the past. I told her everything. I shared my ideas with her, I admitted my passions with her and readily ate up her suggestions and critique regarding my writing. Who will understand my lame jokes, who will tease me about liking dudes with square foreheads....who will call my future daughter (years and years from being born) Carrot.


I'm worried that I won't be able to write again (she helped me focus my thoughts). That I won't be able to open up again ( i admitted everything to her). That along with this grief i will carry with me this inability to love anyone as much as I loved her. Because I gave her my all, and that wasn't enough you see.

Despite the friends I have here and the support I am getting from the few people I have let into this personal tragedy no one will ever understand the magnitude of Marie's friendship. She was my soul mate, my kindred spirit and the only person I felt truly connected to. And I'm not saying I won't feel that way again, I'm not saying that independent of her I can't still lead this extraordinary life. I am saying that it will be incredibly hard, and I will miss her dearly and I will continue to try and understand her death even if the clues lead me back to the fact that she depressed and didn't want to handle life anymore.

It's a beautiful day outside, sunny and chilly and the wind is caressing the branches ever so softly and I'll regret that she won't be able to see or find comfort in any of these things anymore. I'm worried that her soul is stuck somewhere and that she hasn't found peace in the afterlife. She didn't believe in god and if he/she does exist that maybe this act does not allow for entry into heaven or the pleasant place in the crevice of the clouds. I'll give up my spot there if that means she can enjoy heaven now.

I want to be the strong one able to deal with this better than I have been but I must admit in these last few days I've wished for someone to help lessen this pain. I feel weak and am achy and numb. I simply want a shoulder to cry on and a hug so tight it eliminates the pain already coursing through me. I have this desire and repulsion to be touched and consoled. I feel out of breath and in need of a respirator and i have spent most of my days in bed, wishing that there was a warm body nearby that i could fold into that would breathe for both of us.

And I apologize in advance for writing so much about the last few days. But the writing helps. Lately it's the only thing helping. It has always been my way to understand what my body can't process. It has been my way, these last few days, of coping. The few people and resources I have sought out to process her death all mention the heartbreak of coping. There is just no choice but to. I have family and friends that I love, I have aspirations and dreams that I want to make reality, and I have no choice but to put one foot in front of the other and continue living. I have no choice but to cope and continue to learn to cope with her not being here anymore.