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Too Crazy.

Ok so... Last night I had dinner with a friend here in Arizona...and she just happens to be living with an ex of mine. This particular ex just happens to be schizophrenic. He ALSO happens to be off his meds. The dinner went fairly well. Tim [the ex] was kind of out of it...but it was pretty much what I'd expected. Otherwise, we talked, we laughed, we ate crappy Denny's and drank flat soda. Tonight, I get a call. Nyssa's upset. She's crying. She can barely speak to me. She had apparently come home to find Tim passed out near death on the floor and a note on the table. He had OD'd. And he was rushed to the hospital via ambulance. I surround myself with crazy people. I know that I do this. Just about everyone I care about has some kind of dysfuction. They keep life interesting. Each of them brings something different into my life...a completely new way of viewing the world. Each of them touches a different aspect of me. Sometimes it's like there are so many people inside of me. Some days I'm a hippie. Some days I'm a mother. Some days I'm the girl in black latex and lipstick. Some days I'm this aggressive mean spirited bitch. Some days...well, some days I'm just me. I look at these people and see something of myself in them...some little idiosincrisy that we share. It's something different with everyone. Friends and lovers alike. I just find crazy people more interesting, I suppose. Because they're broken...just like me. With Tim, it was a couple of things. We both had eclectic musical tastes...and violent sexual appetites [blushes]. It's just too bad that he was so constantly needy and unfaithful and crippled by his condition and...well...maybe there is such a thing as "too crazy". Especially when you have a condition as severe as Tim's and you refuse to take your medication. But what Tim did tonight...fuck. It just shows exactly how fragile and fleeting every moment is. It proves that we all can find that kind of despair if we only dig deep enough. It also proves that he couldn't even do this right. Leave it to him to screw up his own death the same way he let himself screw up his life. Why is it that some people can never see what they have until it's gone?
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