#surround sound of shannon screaming for 5 hours

[type-a-nomad]

weekend feb 25

February 25 Sunday

Alright so this weekend has been crazy lazy.  Before I get into my lethargy and the justification for it, I want to address some of the information I forget to include in my general posts.  

One thing I keep forgetting to write down: THEY DONT USE TAPE HERE. My friend Sydney just came over and saw me writing and asked if I had written this down because she pointed this out last week and I totally freaked out.  Because THEY DONT.  It sounds small, but imagine if all of the tape in your life vanished.  WEIRD.  Super fûcking weird.  Instead of tape, they use this sticky white ticky-tac stuff to stick things to the walls.  Tape is better.   Another thing I forgot to write down: I extended and am now staying here until April 14th.  Yay! I came to this decision because the work here is meaningful, and the quality of life is high because I’m by the beach, the people are generally good, it’s a different culture that challenges me, and I am meeting new people almost every day because it’s a hostel so everyone comes and leaves at different times. ANOTHER THING. I talked to Shannon about what the crazy lady screamed at us on Thursday.  It turns out it wasn't all crazy.  The crazy woman mentioned people dying.  When I followed up, she was right.  I did not get a year for when this happened, but probably within the last five years, Shannon said that eight volunteers were walking in the street in the evening.  A drunk driver hit all of them.  Shannon was the first on the scene and one of the volunteers died in her arms.  Two others were in comas for several weeks, and all the others were injured but survived.  I did not press her further on the subject because, obviously, this is beyond a delicate topic.  I can’t imagine the kind of emotional experience that was for Shannon.  Also, she’s an amazing woman.   Shannon is only 28 and basically runs the volunteer program.  She has three adopted kids who she adopted WHEN SHE WAS 24.  Their mother was an alcoholic and a drug addict and I am not sure how Shannon was initially connected with them, but I think she met them all through the volunteer program and eventually interceded.  She is very connected to some of the families of the kids in the program, which I think is a great thing because we meet some resistance from the families sometimes and more communication helps.  It is easy to say that it’s crazy for families to be against their children being tutored, given attention, taught to swim, taken out to play organized sports, and taught to surf.  However, there’s more to the situation.  When you keep in mind the poverty these kids live in and the relatively luxurious lives the volunteers have just because we have couches, a fridge, running water, etc. I completely see why there would be resentment from somebody of that background playing with your kid after school.  Also, I’m sure there is some feeling of resistance against the idea of your kid being a charity case that rich white people use to feel like they're doing good things.  Some of the parents outright tell their kids they aren't allowed to go after school and play with us, that they want them to clean the house and babysit their siblings while their parents finish work.  These kids still come and sometimes they will mention “My mom told me I can’t be here, if she finds out….” and you can just tell that if the parents find out their child came to the program, they might face physical punishment.  That’s how much this program means to the kids.  And that’s how much somebody else offering privileges to your child that you cannot provide them upsets parents.   As for my weekend.  My weekend starts on Friday.  On Friday, it was only kind warm and I went out with Thora to the cafe we found and really like called Melissa’s.  After, I went with her to get her tattoo touched-up, which looked painful.  Then, I went surfing for about 3 hours. My ribs have been sore all weekend since.  I caught a lot of waves, but still haven't ridden any in.  I got the tiniest board and am not practiced enough to handle it.  Hopefully next time I’ll get a long board that isn't as hard to balance. That night, there was a Braai which was nice.  Coll made fantastic butternut squash with spanish and feta.  I almost always eat vegetarian here.  I went out with Thora after we had a bottle of wine with dinner and we checked out a cool bar I’ll probably go back to.   It’s called the boardhouse and it’s very beachy and very South African. Thora is trying to talk me into going vegan and I’m very morally conflicted.  I’ve been thinking a lot about global warming and how hard it is to not feel frustrated and stuck.  I want to just change everything.  I wish I had a billion dollars to buy the amazon rainforest, deploy a fleet of boats to clean the ocean, develop a way of fishing that doesn't destroy entire ecosystems, promote permaculture and make the entire mid-west quit mono cropping, change the meat industry and find more meat alternatives so people stop eating so many cows that pollute horribly, also invent electric airplanes.  I don’t know where to start.  Maybe I need to become God or something and just shake the world with my hands until everything goes back down and fixes itself, like a snow globe.  The permafrost is melting and I’m just sitting here in South Africa, so frustrated I want to scream.  On top of that I am ironically angry at people who just say they can’t do anything and its just too bad.  Like pick up a shovel and plant trees, go vegan, be a better human.  I should definitely lead by example.  I have a lot of ideas and need to start executing more.  I am eighteen and actually realizing my morals in my lifestyle is something that age isn't really an excuse for.  I know how to change things, I just want to change everything and just myself does not feel like enough.  My head is so full.  So is my heart.  

Saturday, Thora was out with this guy named Ramis that she met at a festival.  Ironically, she went to that festival the weekend she got here with that guy who stole money from her.  We decided a good tactic to get over it was to distract herself and just have fun on her vacation, and this guy was nice and interested in being friends/ knew that she was there with somebody else.  Anyways, she was out with him at this really popular food market they have in Cape Town called the Old Biscuit Mill.  I could have done things, but it was cold and rainy and I didn't feel like it.  I ended up spending most of my day laying down and just talking, reading and thinking.  The talking part was first.  I got to call my wonderful boyfriend Mitchell and we talked from 8am-2pm.  You can do the math on that one.  After sitting in bed for that long, the back of my head hurt and I took that as a sign of a level of laziness that I probably shouldn't encourage in myself.  When he went to bed, I got up and ate some pickles and talked to Coll.  Then, I went on a little walk by myself just around a few blocks to stretch my lazy legs.  I got back and made toast with hummus and feta, carrots and hummus, and then Coll was an angel and gave me this amazing pretzel bun that she had bought at a nice market on her way into work.  She loves them and got a few.  She made tomato soup for dinner that night so we got to sample it while eating the obnoxiously large soft pretzels.  YUM.  I took two of these activated charcoal pills that my friend Whitney takes every morning and says they suck toxins out of your body.  Then, I sat in the hammock and read my book.  I am currently reading “A Little History of the World”, which is absolutely fabulous.  It just summarizes everything I’ve learned in history in the past 5 years of my life.  Totally fantastically unpretentious, interesting, and to the point.  10/10, highly recommend, 5 stars on Yelp!, all that.  I can’t say I’ve ever read a book as old as it and feel like I’m talking to somebody right now. I felt kinda weird all day Saturday, but I assumed that it was because I didn't really eat while I was on the phone with Mitchell so I didn't eat until way later in the day.  We had dinner, soup and bread, at 6 ish and after I went almost straight to bed because my tummy was nauseous.  I thought I could just sleep it off.  How I was wrong.  I sat in bed for around 2 hours.  The nausea was so bad that I couldn't sleep and after the first hour I started to think I might puke but fought hard against it.  Firstly, I hate throwing up.  Secondly, the toilets are all the way across the property, and I didn't want to walk all the way over there, puke, and then go back to bed.  Turns out, that’s exactly what happened and it was even worse because I had fought against it.  I ended up running out of my bed, holding my mouth and willing myself not to puke until I got to the bathroom, walking barefoot, past all the other partying residents of my hostel, to the bathroom.  Right before I closed the door to the bathroom, I started projectile vomiting.  All over the floor, doors, wall, toilet, everything.  I spent the next 10 minutes puking and the next hour sitting in my own vomit cleaning it up.  My clothes, face, and hair were entirely covered in puke. It was a lovely experience.  I walked backed to bed covered in vomit and shame.  Then I showered and changed and drank water.  Big mistake.  I got up again and vomited all my water out into the kitchen sink and then went back to bed.   Sunday has been weird because I have been recovering from puking all day.  I dragged Thora to the mini mart to buy ramen and soup-powder to try and trick my body into eating something.  I also got vitamin water and a lemon popsicle.  I sat in bed for most of the day, made some ramen.  Had a really nice and long conversation with one of the interns here named Matt.  He is from Norway and is here with his fiancé Kaia.  We talked about psychology and mental health and the consequences of the stigma surrounding it.  He was feeling sick too so we bonded over our misery.  Today, Thora left and a new girl from New Castle, England moved in.  Her name is Dani and she plays american football.  She’s a linebacker.  She’s very VERY English.  She says “innit”, and “proper” instead of “really” or “super”, and her accent is sometimes so strong it’s hard to understand.  I think she’s nice enough but I don’t think we are going to be that close.  She isn't interested school or news or politics, which isn't the actual problem it’s more of a symptom of how our minds are different.  I need to make some friends but don’t have the energy at the moment.  I want another really cool person to just kinda pop up, like Thora.  Or maybe I won’t.  Being alone is really not that bad of a thing, I just need to stop compensating for it by using technology.  Self-improvement is an ongoing battle.  My ramen was good but I am out of food and just ate my last stuff: half a jar of pickles.  Not sure what I am going to do for dinner, probably just eat my lemon popsicle and some ginger biscuits I also got at the market.  I also hear you can make scrambled eggs in the microwave.  The stove here doesn't work so I made my powdered soup with the water-boiling tea pot thing and can only make my eggs with the microwave.  I’ve seen it done, I just don’t know how I feel about it.  I’ll probably just go to bed.  I was invited to go out to Italian food with Linda, Whitney, and Coll, but I’m not sure if I feel up to all of that.  I’m really tired *yawns*.  I just wish I had some hot pesto pasta already made and my own bed.  Tomorrow I’m going on a wine tour with Thora which will be fun.  She’s staying in Muisenberg for a week and then going back home to Sydney.  It will also probably be good to change out of the PJs I’ve been wearing for about 24 hours now, including to the mini-mart this morning.  

Peace, Q

[onxeuponanimagine]

Shannon Leto Imagine

Shannon soulmate.

Y/N pov.

You were currently sitting in your dark living having a Harry Potter marathon by yourself surrounded by snacks and Chinese. You were half asleep and your favorite part of the order of the Phoenix was coming up when your phone ranged.

You quickly searched for it through all your trash before finding the buzzed electronic device.

“Hello” you said

“Y/N it’s mike” Mike was you manger

“Oh Hi Mike what’s up.”

“I just wanted to be the first to tell you the you are wanted to preform at the AMA.”

“Oh My Gosh are you serious.” You gushed

“Yup, they love your new single and want you there, now the show is a while away but you now you have plenty of time to prepare.”

“Oh I will this is huge for my career I’ll call you back tomorrow. You hang up and screamed into your pillow. You were so excited. This day couldn’t get any better this was one of your favorite award shows and you were finally getting to preform. It was a dream of yours since you was younger. You sighed happily first the HP marathon, then the AMA .And the most important part when you woke up this morning

*flashback*

You woke up to the warm sun on your face. You had no plans so you decided to watch one of your favorite movie series and have a lazy day at home. You made a nice breakfast, then got in shower to get ready for shopping for you fun day. After shower you glanced down at your arm and saw your count down clock.

00:01:08:07:32:12

One months eight weeks seven hours thirty-two minute and twelve seconds until you meet your soulmate. How did it get so far down. You swear the last time you looked at the clock you had a least 4 years left. What changed in you or your soulmates life that you two will cross paths early.

*Flashback over*

You smiled thinking about finally meeting the person you’re meant to be with.

**** *two months later*

Shannon pov.

"Jared, I’m going nuts I’m meeting her soon, I said to my brother

"Meeting who?” I rolled my eyes. “ my soulmate you Dumbass. Look at my arm.

We both looked down at my clock to see that is read

00:00:00:00:59:10

"I AM MEETING MY SOULMATE IN LESS THAN AN HOUR. HOLE FUCK. I was freaking out. What if she didn’t like me. What if she hated my band and my traveling for tour What if what if Before I could panic more Jared grabbed me.

"Shan calm down everything is going to be okay. This person is made for you and if this is a problem you guys will work it out. YOU ARE SOULMATES DUDE.” He said

“Thanks man means a lot. But do I look okay.”

“You’re my brother we always look good. We laugh and get into the car on the way to the AMA.

Y/N pov.

You were kinda panicking today were the AMA and you worried if you would mess up.. You been practicing hard and thought you were great, but what if something when wrong. You were the first performer of the night and don’t want the show to get off to a bad start

Add on to how nervous you are . You saw that know your meeting your soulmate today. You refused to looked down to see how long you had to you meet him.

You arrived on the carpet to see it filled with celebrities already. You took a deep breath before getting out the car and walking to do your first interview

After about a dozen interviews you walk backstage towards the set you saw the refreshments table and decided to get something to eat since you were so nervous this morning to eat.

After you got to the table you reached for a muffin when you heard two synchronized buzzing. The sound when two soulmates are together. You smiled to see who met the one true love. But turned to see No one, it must be coming from one of the rooms. You went to bite your muffin when you realized the noise what from you wrist. You looked down at your clock as you heard a door open and footsteps approach.

00:00:00:00:00:00

You moved your eyes to the identical buzzing clock now in front. Your eyes moves up the arm to the shoulder. Soon meeting the Hazel eyes of your soulmate. It was Shannon Leto from Thirty Seconds to Mars.

"You’re Y/N, right? He asked with a smirk on my face. You blushed and look around to see the room was full of people staring at the pair of you.

"Y-Yes that’s me.” You said making eye contact.

He smiled, “well I think we are soulmates.” He laughed.

“Yes it would seem.”

“JUST KISS ALREADY.” To turn to see Tomo and Jared from his band laughing at you two. Before you could reacted Shannon grab you cheeks softly and pulled you in for a kiss. Fireworks exploded with you two kiss.

“ Y/N to the stage you’re on in 5.” You pulled away and smiled at him.

“Break a leg babe.” Hi pecked you once and pushed you towards the stage.

You walked on stage no longer nervous about your performance knowing that Shannon was watching and cheering you on.

[cherryvanillamilkshakes-blog]

Thunderstorms

It was a Friday; I was wearing a long white dress; there was a faded patch of fake tan on it from when I was rushing to get ready in time; I had long dark hair with super blonde ends; I was in my grandparent’s garden; I was surrounded by friends who I mostly don’t see anymore; there was a beer pong table set up: game after game. I was consumed with Smirnoff double blacks. My 16th birthday.

I waited around for people to arrive at my grandparents house on this Friday evening. They were so kind to allow me to host my birthday there, although I was paranoid about my drunk friends messing up my grandmother’s garden that she has poured her heart and soul into for most of her life. People slowly began to arrive and the night began like any other get together does: a game of King’s Cup that never seems to be that fun. It was due to be light for hours, those particular summer nights in February where the transition between light and dark continues for so long that you don’t even realise when it’s complete.

A wave of surprise, excitement and relief hit me all at once when my dear friend James walked into the garden from the deck - the entrance in and out of the house. Although he had clicked going on my event, I had messaged him two days earlier asking if he would be attending my birthday and he didn’t reply to me. We had a small argument over text one week prior. I knew - just by looking at him - all was forgotten. The argument was history, it was my birthday and James didn’t want to miss it. He was here and we were okay. We exchanged a hug and he sat down with me and the small group of my friends who were also here - about 5 of us in total. It was still early, the darkness was nowhere to be felt. Topics of discussion included his birthday (which was only the day before), he told us that he found full bottles of abandoned liquor and took them; he mentioned his new job at Topshop that was due to commence soon; we spoke for a moment about the recent loss of his beautiful boyfriend Matai; we played King’s Cup. James got the King card, he drank it all back - he was a professional.

The night grew, but it mostly grew into a big blur, as I find most nights do. By now, everyone had arrived. Photos were being taken; people were creeping off in miniature groups to smoke weed in deserted places; the music was playing off a portable speaker; James was smoking cigarettes. There weren’t many lights in the garden, so when nighttime finally spilled into the sky we had to move the beer pong table from the grass onto a slab of concrete by an outside light, so that the players could focus. James discussed how he was planning to move to Wellington. He seemed excited about this.

Time caught up to us and the night came to a close. I was sitting on a picnic table in the garden with my best friends, feeling anything but sober - but I was happy. James came up to us and asked if we wanted to stay the night. I don’t recall why it didn’t work out, but it was alright because he said he wanted to go home and see his older brother. We said we would see each other soon, we hugged goodbye.

After saying thank you and goodbye to my family, I left my own birthday at my grandparents house. Danielle, Fay, Fran and I all departed together, heading to the McDonalds drive through for an essential greasy feed, laughing and joking together the whole way back to Danielle’s as the date rolled from the 20th to the 21st. 

-- 

Vibrations woke us all up. I don’t know how, but I knew what had happened before my eyes even opened. All four of us were crammed in Danielle’s bed. We each awoke. Danielle climbed out of bed and reached to her phone, we missed the call. 

“Shannon called me.” 

This confirmed everything that I knew I already knew. Silence screamed. We all knew.

As Danielle texted James’ best friend Shannon, we huddled around Danielle’s phone together, riddled with dread. 

“James is with Matai now.” 

I screamed, mainly because I didn’t know how else to respond. Fran fell into quiet tears; Danielle ran to her mother; Fay left the room and called her family.

We didn’t know how to cry, because it wasn’t real. We had seen him just last night and he seemed happy. After the loss of Matai, James would cry out loud and scream and bleed his hurt and we could all see it. Last night I couldn’t see pain. 

One of the most significant things I recall about the tragedy was the support from everybody that immediately poured in as people began to find out about James. People who did know James well, and people who didn’t know James well. Multiple messages from people trying to express their sincerest condolences flooded in just hours later. The words people sent felt see-through and false, I tried my hardest to show appreciation for everyone’s kind messages, but my replies just felt empty and strange no matter how hard I tried. I couldn’t process anything, I would send love hearts and sad faces but I didn’t feel any love or sadness, because I was numb. 17 years of age only by two short days and gone. 

Shock is undoubtedly one of the most unexplainable and overwhelming emotions. It’s something you can acknowledge only in the moment of experiencing it, trying to recount exactly what it feels like simply isn’t possible. It’s like being in a dull dream. Not a nightmare because there’s too much emotion in nightmares; but a colourless and lengthly dream that you desperately want to wake up from, yet when you do, that same atmosphere stalks you all day.

Having to call our friends that morning and tell them the horrible news was burdensome; particularly because I couldn’t process it myself, let alone deliver the heartbreak to other friends who adored James. There was no easy way to say it, I just had to say it. I remember calling Annie and telling her, I could tell that my voice sounded so plain, but I still couldn’t cry real tears. Even when the words left my mouth and I heard it aloud for the first time, it still didn’t seem real. It felt like I was being told what to say and the words were just flowing out of my mouth, like a practiced routine. 

On the day of the tragedy, we all stuck together and remained at Danielle’s house on Finnerty Avenue. Friends arrived with eyes full of tears, minds full of confusion and hearts full of sorrow. We all hugged and sat together, they brought mattresses with them so we could all be together for the whole night. James had only moved out of Danielle’s house a few weeks earlier. The house was still painted with memories of him, and it was painful.

I spent the night looking through James’ tumblr, surrounded by everybody. We were listening to James’s favourite songs, some of us were sitting on the floor of Danielle’s bedroom and some of us were crying. There was a post that read ‘I am weak and I am sorry’. It was written in the early AM, and it was the last post James made on his tumblr. I looked through photos of him and cried out loud, the first time tears had uncontrollably spilled from my eyes that devastating day. Fay, Mason and I slept in the same bed that night and fell asleep listening to Phoenix by A$AP Rocky and Idle by Spooky Black, silent tears trickling. 

The morning after was so hard. The shock was alive yet James was not. I thought that he would message us or come over or be active online. I was just waiting for something - anything. Because it just couldn’t possibly be real, and know I keep saying that, but there’s truly no other way of describing how I was feeling.

Over the duration of the next few days I was surrounded by so many beautiful friends, all who were experiencing the same grief as each other. This made it slightly bearable. We were there for each other from the morning to the nighttime. We didn’t go to school, except for one day where we spent most of the time in the counsellor’s office colouring in. I saw my favourite teacher Miss Walsh who knew both James and Matai through her younger sister; she hugged me and asked me why I was even at school. The school granted us the week off.

We visited James’ parents often throughout the week and watched his mother’s heart shatter, she was in a world of pain and desperately wanted her baby boy back. We sat in James’s room and looked through his belongings, reminiscing and missing him. His phone was next to his bed with missed calls and messages and his Doc Martens were still in the middle of his bedroom from when he took them off last. We came across his suicide note in his journal, the final line reading “I’ll see you when you’re old and grey.” 

We saw James a few days prior to the funeral. His casket was white and was placed in the lounge of the Taylor’s house, surrounded by flowers. It took us awhile to build up the courage to see our friend. We had each other though - so we were strong. We looked at him, cried to him, touched him, kissed him, spoke to him. 

The funeral was held on the Thursday, and the night before Fay, Shannon and I stayed in James’ bedroom overnight. I wanted to be as close as possible to his spirit. I wanted to feel him around me, but I couldn’t. 

The morning of the funeral I said goodbye to James’ physical being. I sat in the lounge alone and told him what I needed to tell him, and I hoped and prayed that he would hear me. James’ mother made green tea and pressed a drop onto his lips, crying. 

I felt plastic throughout the whole funeral. I didn’t know how to express true emotion because it felt so fictional to me. After the service, I hugged Angela for awhile - a close friend of James’. People were lingering in the church and outside the hearse was getting ready to depart. I scrambled to get out of the door so I could place a flower on the coffin and say a final goodbye. I managed to do so but couldn’t see my friends anywhere. They were still inside, having conversations and stuck behind the cluster of people. I watched it drive away. 

We drank wine and let off lanterns that night at Shannon’s house, two colourful flames that floated into the sea of stars. We wrote messages to both James and Matai, expressing that we were deeply devastated that two of the most amazing people we had all ever met were no longer with us, and we questioned how we could possibly go on without aching from how much we love and miss them. We also told them that we were at a sense of peace knowing they would be reunited again. The lanterns cooperated beautifully and side by side, rose into the night sky. We stood together and Mason yelled out “We love you James” to the lanterns, then we all started yelling too. We watched and watched and watched, until the flames flickered away into the horizon, never to be seen again.

Eventually, the messages and visits stopped, the school was no longer granting us excusable time off, time was progressing and James still was not here. People were living their lives normally again. The shock slowly wore off and welcomed grief instead, and it was real now. Our friend group expanded and continued to stick together, remembering our beautiful friends who left us too soon. We supported one another at all times whenever we needed it, it is still needed to this day. 

I had so many regrets and unanswered questions for so long, I always will. What if we had stayed with James that night? Did he plan all along to do it that particular night? Did I say the right thing at his funeral? Is he mad that I didn’t cry when I spoke at his service? Is he mad at me for any other things I’ve said or done? Was I a bad friend to him? Does he know how much I love him, and does he love me back? Is he safe? 

For so long I felt as if the only way I could reach out to James was through social media, because if I spoke out loud he might not hear me, and it wasn’t enough to just keep him in my thoughts, he needed to know. I wrote about him on the bathroom wall at school. People would write horrible anonymous jokes about him on Yik Yak, I would respond and get angry. One day we were all at Danielle’s house, and Fran was crying because someone wrote on the ridiculous anonymous app that I posted pictures of James for attention. So I cried too, because I didn’t want to be viewed that way, I just didn’t know how else to express my sorrow. 

Time is a saviour but it’s also an enemy too. I think about James all the time and the same regrets are still tucked away in my soul; but I no longer cry whenever I think about him, and I don’t beat myself up over what I did or didn’t do. I was so afraid of getting used to it because I didn’t want to forget. I look at the last messages I sent to James on Facebook when I asked if he was coming to my birthday and they haven’t delivered, they used to say seen. It’s been too long. 

I reminisce on times we shared. I need to remember everything. Back when we were 13 and 14 years old and shopping in Auckland City op shops seeking out the most indie looking clothes we could secure; the nights where Danielle and James lived in the little house on Clovelly Road; the weekend Danielle and James moved into Finnerty Avenue and Fay, Fran and I helped them move, we had no wifi for two days so we christened the house by smoking and laughing, James had a cigarette in one hand and a joint in the other; the melancholy I felt through the grip of James’ hand as he clutched mine on the way to Matai’s funeral. I try to remember every single memory I’ve shared with James, but it’s not enough. No amount of time spent with him would have ever been enough. 

The death of my special friend James brought myself and my friends some severely dark times, each of us were fighting a battle for so long, and the battle scars are still carved into us, where they will stay forever. The strength and determination to carry on that I witnessed from my wonderful friends was beyond admirable, I love them with all my heart. Although this cloud is more of a thunderstorm, the silver lining is contemporary; I learnt about the importance of caring for others and what they are going through, the need to tell your friends just how much you love them, and to always be prepared for life’s endless and unforeseen possibilities. I will never stop missing James, but I know I’ll see him again when I’m old and grey; and his hands will still be soft, his hair will still replicate perfection and his eyes will still be big, dark and beautiful.

[wordsbytori-blog]

Thunderstorms (written in August, 2017)

It was a Friday; I was wearing a long white dress; there was a faded patch of fake tan on it from when I was rushing to get ready in time; I had long dark hair with super blonde ends; I was in my grandparent’s garden; I was surrounded by friends who I mostly don’t see anymore; there was a beer pong table set up: game after game. I was consumed with Smirnoff double blacks. My 16th birthday.

I waited around for people to arrive at my grandparents house on this Friday evening. They were so kind to allow me to host my birthday there, although I was paranoid about my drunk friends messing up my grandmother’s garden that she has poured her heart and soul into for most of her life. People slowly began to arrive and the night began like any other get together does: a game of King’s Cup that never seems to be that fun. It was due to be light for hours, those particular summer nights in February where the transition between light and dark continues for so long that you don’t even realise when it’s complete.

A wave of surprise, excitement and relief hit me all at once when my dear friend James walked into the garden from the deck – the entrance in and out of the house. Although he had clicked going on my event, I had messaged him two days earlier asking if he would be attending my birthday and he didn’t reply to me. We had a small argument over text one week prior. I knew – just by looking at him – all was forgotten. The argument was history, it was my birthday and James didn’t want to miss it. He was here and we were okay. We exchanged a hug and he sat down with me and the small group of my friends who were also here – about 5 of us in total. It was still early, the darkness was nowhere to be felt. Topics of discussion included his birthday (which was only the day before), he told us that he found full bottles of abandoned liquor and took them; he mentioned his new job at Topshop that was due to commence soon; we spoke for a moment about the recent loss of his beautiful boyfriend Matai; we played King’s Cup. James got the King card, he drank it all back – he was a professional.

The night grew, but it mostly grew into a big blur, as I find most nights do. By now, everyone had arrived. Photos were being taken; people were creeping off in miniature groups to smoke weed in deserted places; the music was playing off a portable speaker; James was smoking cigarettes. There weren’t many lights in the garden, so when nighttime finally spilled into the sky we had to move the beer pong table from the grass onto a slab of concrete by an outside light, so that the players could focus. James discussed how he was planning to move to Wellington. He seemed excited about this.

Time caught up to us and the night came to a close. I was sitting on a picnic table in the garden with my best friends, feeling anything but sober – but I was happy. James came up to us and asked if we wanted to stay the night. I don’t recall why it didn’t work out, but it was alright because he said he wanted to go home and see his older brother. We said we would see each other soon, we hugged goodbye.

After saying thank you and goodbye to my family, I left my own birthday at my grandparents house. Danielle, Fay, Fran and I all departed together, heading to the McDonalds drive through for an essential greasy feed, laughing and joking together the whole way back to Danielle’s as the date rolled from the 20th to the 21st.

–

Vibrations woke us all up. I don’t know how, but I knew what had happened before my eyes even opened. All four of us were crammed in Danielle’s bed. We each awoke. Danielle climbed out of bed and reached to her phone, we missed the call.

“Shannon called me.”

This confirmed everything that I knew I already knew. Silence screamed. We all knew.

As Danielle texted James’ best friend Shannon, we huddled around Danielle’s phone together, riddled with dread.

“James is with Matai now.”

I screamed, mainly because I didn’t know how else to respond. Fran fell into quiet tears; Danielle ran to her mother; Fay left the room and called her family.

We didn’t know how to cry, because it wasn’t real. We had seen him just last night and he seemed happy. After the loss of Matai, James would cry out loud and scream and bleed his hurt and we could all see it. Last night I couldn’t see pain.

One of the most significant things I recall about the tragedy was the support from everybody that immediately poured in as people began to find out about James. People who did know James well, and people who didn’t know James well. Multiple messages from people trying to express their sincerest condolences flooded in just hours later. The words people sent felt see-through and false, I tried my hardest to show appreciation for everyone’s kind messages, but my replies just felt empty and strange no matter how hard I tried. I couldn’t process anything, I would send love hearts and sad faces but I didn’t feel any love or sadness, because I was numb. 17 years of age only by two short days and gone.

Shock is undoubtedly one of the most unexplainable and overwhelming emotions. It’s something you can acknowledge only in the moment of experiencing it, trying to recount exactly what it feels like simply isn’t possible. It’s like being in a dull dream. Not a nightmare because there’s too much emotion in nightmares; but a colourless and lengthly dream that you desperately want to wake up from, yet when you do, that same atmosphere stalks you all day.

Having to call our friends that morning and tell them the horrible news was burdensome; particularly because I couldn’t process it myself, let alone deliver the heartbreak to other friends who adored James. There was no easy way to say it, I just had to say it. I remember calling Annie and telling her, I could tell that my voice sounded so plain, but I still couldn’t cry real tears. Even when the words left my mouth and I heard it aloud for the first time, it still didn’t seem real. It felt like I was being told what to say and the words were just flowing out of my mouth, like a practiced routine.

On the day of the tragedy, we all stuck together and remained at Danielle’s house on Finnerty Avenue. Friends arrived with eyes full of tears, minds full of confusion and hearts full of sorrow. We all hugged and sat together, they brought mattresses with them so we could all be together for the whole night. James had only moved out of Danielle’s house a few weeks earlier. The house was still painted with memories of him, and it was painful.

I spent the night looking through James’ tumblr, surrounded by everybody. We were listening to James’s favourite songs, some of us were sitting on the floor of Danielle’s bedroom and some of us were crying. There was a post that read ‘I am weak and I am sorry’. It was written in the early AM, and it was the last post James made on his tumblr. I looked through photos of him and cried out loud, the first time tears had uncontrollably spilled from my eyes that devastating day. Fay, Mason and I slept in the same bed that night and fell asleep listening to Phoenix by A$AP Rocky and Idle by Spooky Black, silent tears trickling.

The morning after was so hard. The shock was alive yet James was not. I thought that he would message us or come over or be active online. I was just waiting for something – anything. Because it just couldn’t possibly be real, and know I keep saying that, but there’s truly no other way of describing how I was feeling.

Over the duration of the next few days I was surrounded by so many beautiful friends, all who were experiencing the same grief as each other. This made it slightly bearable. We were there for each other from the morning to the nighttime. We didn’t go to school, except for one day where we spent most of the time in the counsellor’s office colouring in. I saw my favourite teacher Miss Walsh who knew both James and Matai through her younger sister; she hugged me and asked me why I was even at school. The school granted us the week off.

We visited James’ parents often throughout the week and watched his mother’s heart shatter, she was in a world of pain and desperately wanted her baby boy back. We sat in James’s room and looked through his belongings, reminiscing and missing him. His phone was next to his bed with missed calls and messages and his Doc Martens were still in the middle of his bedroom from when he took them off last. We came across his suicide note in his journal, the final line reading “I’ll see you when you’re old and grey.”

We saw James a few days prior to the funeral. His casket was white and was placed in the lounge of the Taylor’s house, surrounded by flowers. It took us awhile to build up the courage to see our friend. We had each other though – so we were strong. We looked at him, cried to him, touched him, kissed him, spoke to him.

The funeral was held on the Thursday, and the night before Fay, Shannon and I stayed in James’ bedroom overnight. I wanted to be as close as possible to his spirit. I wanted to feel him around me, but I couldn’t.

The morning of the funeral I said goodbye to James’ physical being. I sat in the lounge alone and told him what I needed to tell him, and I hoped and prayed that he would hear me. James’ mother made green tea and pressed a drop onto his lips, crying.

I felt plastic throughout the whole funeral. I didn’t know how to express true emotion because it felt so fictional to me. After the service, I hugged Angela for awhile – a close friend of James’. People were lingering in the church and outside the hearse was getting ready to depart. I scrambled to get out of the door so I could place a flower on the coffin and say a final goodbye. I managed to do so but couldn’t see my friends anywhere. They were still inside, having conversations and stuck behind the cluster of people. I watched it drive away.

We drank wine and let off lanterns that night at Shannon’s house, two colourful flames that floated into the sea of stars. We wrote messages to both James and Matai, expressing that we were deeply devastated that two of the most amazing people we had all ever met were no longer with us, and we questioned how we could possibly go on without aching from how much we love and miss them. We also told them that we were at a sense of peace knowing they would be reunited again. The lanterns cooperated beautifully and side by side, rose into the night sky. We stood together and Mason yelled out “We love you James” to the lanterns, then we all started yelling too. We watched and watched and watched, until the flames flickered away into the horizon, never to be seen again.

Eventually, the messages and visits stopped, the school was no longer granting us excusable time off, time was progressing and James still was not here. People were living their lives normally again. The shock slowly wore off and welcomed grief instead, and it was real now. Our friend group expanded and continued to stick together, remembering our beautiful friends who left us too soon. We supported one another at all times whenever we needed it, it is still needed to this day.

I had so many regrets and unanswered questions for so long, I always will. What if we had stayed with James that night? Did he plan all along to do it that particular night? Did I say the right thing at his funeral? Is he mad that I didn’t cry when I spoke at his service? Is he mad at me for any other things I’ve said or done? Was I a bad friend to him? Does he know how much I love him, and does he love me back? Is he safe?

For so long I felt as if the only way I could reach out to James was through social media, because if I spoke out loud he might not hear me, and it wasn’t enough to just keep him in my thoughts, he needed to know. I wrote about him on the bathroom wall at school. People would write horrible anonymous jokes about him on Yik Yak, I would respond and get angry. One day we were all at Danielle’s house, and Fran was crying because someone wrote on the ridiculous anonymous app that I posted pictures of James for attention. So I cried too, because I didn’t want to be viewed that way, I just didn’t know how else to express my sorrow.

Time is a saviour but it’s also an enemy too. I think about James all the time and the same regrets are still tucked away in my soul; but I no longer cry whenever I think about him, and I don’t beat myself up over what I did or didn’t do. I was so afraid of getting used to it because I didn’t want to forget. I look at the last messages I sent to James on Facebook when I asked if he was coming to my birthday and they haven’t delivered, they used to say seen. It’s been too long.

I reminisce on times we shared. I need to remember everything. Back when we were 13 and 14 years old and shopping in Auckland City op shops seeking out the most indie looking clothes we could secure; the nights where Danielle and James lived in the little house on Clovelly Road; the weekend Danielle and James moved into Finnerty Avenue and Fay, Fran and I helped them move, we had no wifi for two days so we christened the house by smoking and laughing, James had a cigarette in one hand and a joint in the other; the melancholy I felt through the grip of James’ hand as he clutched mine on the way to Matai’s funeral. I try to remember every single memory I’ve shared with James, but it’s not enough. No amount of time spent with him would have ever been enough.

The death of my special friend James brought myself and my friends some severely dark times, each of us were fighting a battle for so long, and the battle scars are still carved into us, where they will stay forever. The strength and determination to carry on that I witnessed from my wonderful friends was beyond admirable, I love them with all my heart. Although this cloud is more of a thunderstorm, the silver lining is contemporary; I learnt about the importance of caring for others and what they are going through, the need to tell your friends just how much you love them, and to always be prepared for life’s endless and unforeseen possibilities. I will never stop missing James, but I know I’ll see him again when I’m old and grey; and his hands will still be soft, his hair will still replicate perfection and his eyes will still be big, dark and beautiful.