Attatched

I have many attatchments and yet none at all. I am attatched to the idea of being happy and care free and loved. I am attatched to very few material things. I am attatched to the crucifix I have worn every day for the last 13 years. I am attatched to Boo Boo, the camo wearing teddy bear that watches over my daughter and nephew's pictures while I am gone. I'm attatched to my cashless wallate because most of the contents are more priceless. . .pictures and memories. I am attatched to no human being, not even my daughter because I lost her and it hurts.

I got attatched to a girl named Michelle. We were both kids and she treated my like crap at first. Her parents found out she had cancer. She wasn't given the whole Summer. Her friends all left her and never came back. When i learned about this, I went to see her. She was medicated and really sad. We spoke every day. I'd help my Nanny with chores and stuff and then I'd ride to her house. She went to sleep at around 7 p.m. I would play in her hair and watch television with her or talk to her until she fell asleep. We played board games and when she had to get up and walk, I gave her parents a break and walked her fir her excersize. The day before she died, Michelle's dad called for me because Michelle wanted to see me. I went in her room and she looked paler than usual. She asked me to hold her hand and she kissed me on the cheek. She told me thank you and that she loved me. Her last words to me were, "Gary, you matter." I had an old broken lighter tha my Paw Paw gave me. I gave it to her and she asked me to leave. She died early the next morning and she had the lighter in her hand. I went home the day of the funeral so I never got to say goodbye. I can't even see her in my dreams anymore. The memory of her face faded because when I was with her she made me happy and when I got older, my happiness faded. And along with my happiness went all of my happy memories.

I was attatched to my Paw Paw. He was the greatest man that I ever knew. He became sick when I was a child and he died. I remember the last time I saw him. We watched Dances With Wolves together. He couldn't get out of his bed and I got to fall asleep in his arms. I woke up in the car going back home. Months later he died. I was so numb that I couldn't even cry. Even when i saw Momma crying, I just stared into space and couldn't think. I wanted to go with him, but I couldn't. He died before Michelle did, but he helped me cope with losing my friend. His last words to me were "I love you." I couldn't go to his funeral. It was one thing seeing him sick, but not seeing life in him would have killed me. I never got closure with him. When i had my surgery at 12, I died twice. I saw my Paw Paw and Michelle and a bright light. Michelle wanted me to go with her into the light and my Paw Paw wanted me to stay here. He said that I had lives to touch. Later on, after I was married, just before my separation, I was home alone. Brittany had taken Haley shoppng. Paw Paw used to sing Rock-a-Bye Baby to me as a todler. I was sitting on the couch and it felt as if I had been lifted and was rocking and I heard his voice singing to me. And on the part when the bough breaks, he would drop me and he did this time too. It made me remember, but it made sad. I guess he knew I needed that closure and he gave it to me, but it still hurt like the day I realized he was really gone.

I was attatched to Matthew, my cousin. He had long hair, epilepsy, and introduced me to Metallica and other bands of that genre'. He was from New Orleand and he moved in with us in 1998. Matthew was quiet and shy untill my dad walked into the room, but no matter who he was around friends, he and I could talk about anything. He never smoked cigs, but he got high a couple times and one time, I had gotten high too. He was a virgin and very shy, but he liked a girl we knew most of our lives. He looked at her and said, "Monique, I just wanna fuck you." My mom laughed so hard that she cried. December 1st, 2001, I was home. I had come home the day before from SLU for the weekend. My dad, Matthew, who we called Bobby Bouchere, and a friend had come back from hunting ducks. Matthew's job was to sit on the wharf and feather the ducks. The door was open and there was a clear view of the wharf, but somehow no one was looking for a brief moment and Matthew wasn't there. There was a scramble and I woke up. I was told and had a panick attack, but then, I became cold and didn;t feel anything until I saw my Daddy cry. He blames himself and Matt's mom never let him live it down. Matthew was found the next day. I didn't go to his funeral and to make shit worse, the day after, I went back to school and found out my room mate was in a bad wreck. I would be alone at home and I would be alone at school. I drank myself stupid every fuckin day. On the day of Matt's funeral, I drank so much that I passed out three times. I drank until I passed out, woke up, and did it again. How I survived it was a miracle. Matthew was a 27 year-old virgin. And when I turned 28, that was the first time that I got on my knees and thanked God for a birthday. I don't know why I did that anymore.

I was attatched to the idea of romance and love. I used to believe in the once upon a time, happy ending, prince gets his princess ending. I loved Beauty and the Beast and I used to believe that if i was pure of heart that I would get my Belle being as most people saw me as the Beast. I always use that analagy because it's the most accurate in describing my life. When i got married, I got married to Ursela. She looked and acted just like her. I even called her the Sea Bitch. After we separated, I met a girl who I fell in love with so bad and it was because of her innocense and the fact that she was so pretty and in so much pain. I fell in love with her because I knew what I could make her. And from this hurt soul I created a beautiful flower of self love and confidence. I wanted her to love me and she never did. Instead she fell for another man and kicked me to the curb over his jealousy. Danielle, thanks for teaching me that no good deed goes without its pain. Met another girl who I thought I was doing well with and she found someone. I was not in love with her, but I liked her. I ran her off by trying too hard. I won't say your name, but thank you for teaching me that I have to tone down my shit. Of all the influences, you did the best thing for me. You didn;t put up with my stupidity. Thank you. I may have lost whatever chance I may have possibly had to try something in the future, but at least I learned somwthing.

My point is that no matter what I love, I lose and I never get closure. I never go through a healing process. All I do is bury it. When someone dies, I don;t get sad because they're dead. I'm sad because they are not here. It hurts because the space they occupied is empty now. When i look in the chair in which they sat, I'll see no one or someone else sitting there. It's more painful to lose a friend not in death, but in life. When someone leaves me as a friend they're still their. Just no longer for me. And I always lose the most important friends that I have. Sometimes I think that God wants me to be alone and without people to talk to and love me. I feel like I'm God's experiment. Like, let's make him as nice as possible and put him in the worst situations we can and see how long he can last. Thing like, "Let's give him a wonderful daughter. . .and her mother is gonna make him leave her." :Lets' give him a great voice. . .and a messed up face." "Let's make him as sweet as we can possibly make a person. . .and let's take everything away from him and see how long he keeps it up." "Let's give him the ability to be there and help people with words. . .and let's never give him someone to look into his eyes and listen to him."

I got attatched to too many things and people, but when I die, who is going to EVER say, "I was so attatched to him."