Eight

When I started working on my happy post about all the new podcasts I love, I felt an elephant in the room.

Eight years ago, a guy I knew jumped off a bridge. I remember hearing about it and thinking it wasn’t true, it was someone’s April Fool’s joke in horribly bad taste. I also remember standing around at the wake with goth club friends, in our black, without our makeup.

I wasn’t particularly close to him. He was a friend of a friend, we knew each other peripherally from where the anime crowd and the goth crowd intersected. I have friends who were much more affected, then and now. I didn’t lose a friend, as much as I saw emotions kill someone.

No idea why this is on my mind this year, and it wasn’t so much on anniversaries that I’ve spent with that crowd of friends. I don’t know if I’m even thinking about Bill, more that I’m thinking that people look like they’re just fine when they’re really not.

I wasn’t going to mention it here, since I like my blog to be happy navel-gazing, not depressing, but I just felt that I was faking my cheery post while I was really preoccupied with other thoughts. Happy post to follow.