after thirty minutes of trying to find three houses withing ten miles of eachother, we speed off in my little green car in our suits and jackets and ties to mourn you in a church that none of us belong in. We sit stiffly, cry when we think too hard, laugh at the pictures they show, go silent and get angry at the snide hints at how you died. we mingle, gently, as if everyone is breakable, put our flowers at your picture and hug and lay our heads on eachothers shoulders. we leave as soon as no one will notice.
as soon as we're out of site, we laugh, and joke and smile at eachother. Two of us are bi, two of us are straight, one of us it taken, but we all make horrible jokes, and pour out our souls. On a whim we swing by the mall, take you boys into Victoria Secret, make fools out of our selves and laugh. Then Hot Topic. Then Spencers. Then McDonalds.
We weave in and out of eachothers arms, hugging, patting eachothers back, making sure we all know all of us are alive, all of us are still breathing, all of us are still as sane as we possibly can be. We are all opposites. The mexican bi band geek boy. The ex eating disordered fuck up girl. The pot head drummer guy. The ex coke head bi chic. We are so different. We are all the same.
We were your people, Marcus. Your family. We grieve you with smiles, becasue you were a free spirit who would never let someone frown. You would tell us to quit our ridiculousness. You would tell us to be free with you .Be alive.
And even though what you did was horrible, and wrong, we don't hate you. We hate what happened, that, for a thirty second high, you lost control and died. It was an accident. We know this, and we will defend you to the last breath. We will make sure everyone knows that you were not crazy, or sick, or weird. We'll make sure everyone knows that you, Marcus, were free. You, Marcus, were alive, and are still living, in the people that knew you, and the people that will know you, for we will tell your story, Marcus, and as long as we do not forget you, you still exist.