Day 16. I feel neutral. Void. A close friend of mine killed himself yesterday and I can barely muster up the strength to grieve. This is a test. I know it is. I can't believe that Derek is dead. I refused to believe it, even inclined to think it was some elaborate practical joke. He was theatrical and would do things like that. I can't fathom it. Can't flesh it out, make it real. There is no body to view so I can't feel it. It's not sinking in. I think I am still in shock. I know when my husband gets home, we are both going to melt down. Derek was very dear to both of us. With my husband being away, it almost feels like our emotions are suspended. They will give way when we are back together.

I want to beat the living shit out of Derek and ask him why...why now?
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I dont feel that I have learned much in the wake of Derek's death. I came home and immediately popped some pain pills. Pain pills, he said, were better than antidepressants because they were immediate and just worked better. In some ways, I am inclined to believe that. I took two, then another one. It is helping to alleviate some of the mental duress I am suffering right now. I have this incredible sense of guilt looming over me. He asked me to go out with him. A cup of coffee, that's all he wanted. Just one stinking cup of coffee. I had my son with me so I couldn't go. Derek chainsmoked like nothing I ever saw and my son has bad asthma. The two would not mix very well. I told him to wait for the weekend and we can go. He didn't wait. He took a bottle of Percocet and a bottle of Xanax and ended his life. He was 27 years old. He was damaged goods from the start and abused himself endlessly. He wasn't interested in living because he never sought the help he needed. I like to think that in searching for hope, we are telling ourselves that we want to live...we just need to figure out a better way of doing it.

I've cried a lot in the past 24 hours. I am not sure what the source of the tears are any longer.