mike is his real name, I'm actually not sure why I called him jack on this blog. he thought it was kinda funny too. my grandparents know him as 'straight mike'. and mike always always always knows just what to say to me, and I don't know what I would have done without him over the past few years.
yesterday when I was tidying my office (why is cleaning the antidote for stressed/sad/mad women?)he came to say his 2nd goodbye to me, and said he was going to go say goodbye to everyone else then he would come and say goodbye to me again, one last time.
and I stood in my office and tears started streaming down my cheeks. he walked back in a few minutes later and found me, face in the corner, giggling to counter my tears, blubbering and apologizing for being a baby.
he looked at me like i was an adorably lost toddler.
'aw, well at least you're a cute crier. don't worry kid, we'll keep in touch' and then he hugged me again for the last time.
mike and I were never really huggy friends, it goes against both of our natures. not only were we relatively un-touchy people, but I helped him set up his proposal to his beautiful wife a few years back. he was so stressed out that day, he chain smoked probably a whole pack of Reds. but because of his relationship, I've always tried to tread carefully. I would feel so awful when people thought we were together, or had been together, or something.
but I've never admired another person so much, or confided so much of everything to any one person. I usually like to scatter my secrets about so no one person has too much intel.
but he knew every awful, embarrassing, hilarious thing, and he still liked me. and he actually knew me, which I've always thought is the point of friendships and relationships; to know and be known.
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| normal one moment |
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| bag of candy on his head the next |
I loved every word he said, and every gremlin growl he sputtered when he would pretend to be a rabid animal. and I loved when he would tell me answers to my life-questions as if it was common knowledge. or when he would look at me incredulously with his mouth in a half smile/jaw drop when I would tell him stories of the ridiculous shit I did. or when he poked my ribs or pinched my arms or snipped bits of my hair, just to see what I would do. and I loved that I felt like I knew him better than most too. it's so funny, most of our acquaintances see him as a clean-cut, smart, well-mannered, good, perfect guy, with amazing bone structure and perfect hair (that I would help him pluck the grays out of).
but I always saw the restless soul, the shy writer, the frustrated artist, the angry anti-social. and when I picture him in my mind, I always see him walking down a cold, hazy orange street in Amsterdam at midnight, in a black trench-coat, smoking Marlboro Reds, hands in his pockets with his collar turned up and his head kept down. not because he was afraid, but because he just didn't want people to fucking bug him.
I adore the shit out of him, and I am going to miss him like crazy. but I have the weirdest feeling that everything in my life is about to go the right way, and in a totally different direction. i don't wanna jinx it, but it's like mike is moving now because maybe I won't need him so much. he's had my back until now. now, that I've reached my turning point.
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| michael rex thomas, with a super creepy goon in the background hahaha |
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