I hate writing titles

I haven't been on here in a while.

Just going to write some free flow thought shit, I guess.

I told my friend Kyle about this site. I met Kyle at work. We hit it off pretty fast. Found out we like a lot of the same things, and have the same sense of humor.

Found out that Kyle liked to write. So I told him about Prose.

I hadn't been on here since I told him. Thought I would come on today to see if he had ever joined. He didn't, I guess.

Kyle died. They sent us all home.

I had wanted to stay at work. I had a lot to do and it's nice to take my mind off of things. I wanted to focus on something else that was productive and not mindless.

The Teams calls started early. The first one, I initiated to be fair. My boss was asking me how I was and my answer was too complicated to type. Maybe it still is.

Lot of well-meaning people wanting to talk to me and I don't know, offer comfort with varying degrees of success.

I have a tip for you guys when it comes to comforting a grieving person: don't offer your belief system to a grown adult. I'm 40 and I've got it well figured out for myself and don't need to hear about your Lord and Savior. I guarantee I've heard some iteration of your beliefs before and I don't give a shit.

On top of feeling like shit for not contacting my friend when we both had time off this last week and I could have seen him, I don't want to have to politely listen while you wane philosophical. He is dead and gone and doesn't know shit anymore and isn't haunting anything.

And that fucking sucks because he knew a lot when he was alive.

Kyle was smart. And funny. He was cynical but in a hilarious way. He was fun to talk with and listen to. He had really great stories. He was dreadfully honest and always himself and he did not care what anyone thought, but cared how they felt.

And he is dead and I don't know how many days he's been dead and I don't know why he is dead and I am afraid like so many people I have lost before I will have nothing left of them but memories and I wanted to read his stories. Why didn't he come on here and write?

Whatever I'm done.

And yes I'm keeping "wane" on purpose because to wax means to grow and repeating worthless platitudes only grows my contempt.