Twisted Sunrise, May 2014
I wish I could go back
To before
I remember the full moon was beautiful
And you were pissing me off
I was pissed off with you a lot,
If I’m honest
You were so far in denial
With the rainbow bandaids all up your arms
The cutesy artwork
Hiding a mess of cigarette burns
And the food, the fucking veganism
Those goddamn healthy pitta-breads
And the endless candy
That you were only going to throw up
The fact you were so obsessed with your fucking self care
With your rituals – your movies, the incense, the yoga, the nail polish
Self care – like a sick joke
Healthy food. Cutesy bandaids.
And we were all supposed to ignore the fact
That you were drinking with your pills
That you had pneumonia more times than I have fingers
That you crashed your car every week for a fucking month
That you’d been disappearing for over a year
Until you looked 67 instead of 32
And I barely recognised you anymore
And your goddamn idiot teenage fans
Those fucking repulsive teenagers, who idolised you
And idolised you even more once you were dead
So, yes. You pissed me off.
But I wish I could go back, to before
Before the full moon
Before your brother’s crass announcement –
Or maybe not crass – he just couldn’t find the words,
But all he said was “Gretchen is dead. She died in her sleep last night.”
Just that. On your account. As a status update.
And I’m sorry, but I laughed at it
Because it had to be bullshit
I saw you drinking cocktails in the sunshine
Just two days before
And you’d been here forever
In my life
So you couldn’t just be gone –
Not you
I thought it was bullshit
Because I’d been to that place too –
Hadn’t we all?
Bleeding and emaciated and silently screaming
Eating and puking and posting pictures of nothing
But endless food and our shrinking selves –
The only things we valued
Bones and sinews, and shiny candy wrappers
But it never lasted – it never took anyone –
That’s why I was so pissed off
I was pissed off with you
Because you wouldn’t just move on
From this annoying phase
This dip into idiocy that we were too fucking old for
I thought you’d come back, and then you’d be fun again
I didn’t see it.
That we were too fucking old –
That was the clue, the clue I missed
Too fucking old to weigh 60lbs
To live on alcohol, and pills
And just keep on going
That we weren’t 18 anymore
I didn’t see it
And I’m sorry
I’m sorry for that
But I don’t know what I would have changed
I was mean to you, sometimes
Because you were being stupid
And those teenage fools were idolising your self destruction
And you believed your own lies
And I wanted to slap you
So I did, verbally, a few times
I hope you forgave me
But I suppose it doesn’t matter
I think everything was too late
Your collision course was so long in the making
I couldn’t stop you
Maybe even you couldn’t stop you
But I wish I could go back to before
Before the full moon
And tell you how much you meant
That I loved you even though you fucking pissed me off
And that I’d miss you forever
And that you mattered
I don’t think you knew that
How much you fucking mattered
Like a goddamn rockstar
And the mourning spread over the whole world
For you, for weeks
You left holes in souls on every continent
I see you in every rainbow
In every full moon
And if life ever gets too much
It’s nice to know that I’ll see you again
When I get there.
Miss you, G xx
This entry was posted on May 16, 2016 at 2:49 AM and is filed under Uncategorized with tags death, mourning, poems, poetry, short stories, writing. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.
May 16, 2016 at 11:08 PM
This is beautiful. “you left holes in souls on every continent” – yes.
May 16, 2016 at 11:13 PM
Thank you 🙂 It was a 2am more or less unedited scribble, and probably more angry than I’d intended…I guess it’s been long enough now that I can be angry with her, and truthful about that, not that it serves any purpose… She deserves a brighter tribute really, but I’m rubbish at those… I want to try writing another song, I was never happy with the first one, and she does deserve one, so I’ll have to try again…
June 14, 2016 at 12:22 AM
This is beautiful in the sheer honesty. We hope that we can be honest with those whom we love, but sometimes, it just doesn’t get through. I love that this is virtually unedited. I think that the fact you haven’t given a saccharin sweet “tribute” and shared what you felt, truly and honestly, does more to honour Gretchens memory than anyone skirting around the truth of the situation. She was a beautiful friend to you, with a horrible disease. One that ultimately took her away from you, it’s right that you feel angry. As survivors of addiction and EDs (I truly feel EDs are just another manifestation of addiction, they clearly go hand in hand), I think we feel a duty to offer that hand up to others who are suffering the way we have done.
Take heart in knowing your friendship was built on a rock of honesty.
XOXO
May 30, 2018 at 1:41 AM
Hi Dorian,
I only found you and subscribed to your YouTube this year I love what I’ve seen of your work I find your videos extremely entertaining. I followed your link from purple ghost and this poem really suprized me. In a good way!
My sister was a bulimic, alcoholic, heroine addict bla bla etc etc . I am kind of a bit in shock to read something so close to my internal monologue of anger written down so I just had to tell you so bare with me please lol . She died at 23 of liver failure coming up to 6 years ago it honestly gets harder year on year. The time is a healer and other such platitudes are such complete bullshit. Anyway I just wanted to say I hear you and thank you.
Arrgh Iv never messaged a stranger before this is all new territory for me lol.
Kindest regards
June 1, 2018 at 1:37 AM
Hello! I actually hadn’t re-read this poem in a long, long time – it still makes me sad… There are still things almost every day that make me think, ‘Gretchen would really appreciate this’, or ‘I wish I could tell G about this’…but it does feel different now, 4 years and about 15 days on – it doesn’t feel like a huge hole of a loss anymore, or like a ghastly tragedy, it’s more like she just went home early from the party, from the week-long festival, and we’ll be out of touch for a while – her phone’s dead, there’s no wifi, but eventually we’ll catch up 🙂 And strangely, I think it’s losing my dog that’s made me so philosophical about death – I thought him dying would be almost unbearable, but actually, it’s fine – I have endless good memories, I have so many photographs, I got everything I was ever meant to have there, so how could I feel sad.
…but it’s gotta be different, losing someone who was just 23, and in such an awful way I don’t know that I can even relate to what it must have been like for your sister – I’ve been through eating disorders & addictions, but to die from liver failure…to feel that coming, & still be unable or unwilling to change, I…dunno, I guess when I was 18ish I was realistically near death, & I really didn’t give a shit – I think you assume you’re invincible at that age, or you actively want to die…and it only becomes sad when you live into your late twenties & suddenly almost no one wants to die anymore, & you realise how depressingly futile young self-destructive deaths are 😦
There’s nothing I can really say, but I’m sorry you lost her like that…
March 12, 2021 at 7:23 PM
I think its so strange how aesthetic can sway the human mind so much that both I and many people I know change their life so much to fit the picture they have in their mind. This is one of the most beautiful and sadly understandable poems Ive ever read. I love your youtube channel. ❤ ❤ sending love!
March 14, 2021 at 2:09 AM
Thank you ❤ It had long ceased to be about aesthetics, for G, I think. God…I dunno. She posted pictures a lot, needed the reassurance of comments, but hated the creepy compliments, didn't like being that thin but hated gaining weight. I didn't get it – she had drugs around; once I had drugs around I didn't need the ED to feel ok – drugs were a superior method, to me…but G was was more hooked into self hatred than I ever was. Worse things happened to her, growing up. No details, but even the good members of her family betrayed her to the core – I don't think she could ever love herself after that, after being betrayed like *that*, so young. I wish I'd known her growing up – wish we could've been there for each other, not lonely pre-internet kids on opposite sides of the world but so similar… Anyway, she had love in spades to give, so much so she even gave it after she died – my first paranormal encounter…but none for herself. I'm so glad for Facebook's Memories function; I still get wished happy birthday, every year, by G. I love that. Never forgotten…even though I'm older now than she'll ever be, and she was always the one to lead the way, that was how it was meant be Maybe I'll give her a new poem someday…where I wish she was, what I wish she was doing, the half-baked wishes and plans she'd sometimes come out with when she was feeling optimistic…I'd like to dream up that vision… ❤