this scar is a fleck on my porcelain skin

My head has been spinning this past week. Just spinning and spinning in a fog that may or may not leave in the forseeable future. I'm trying to sort through a number of things, but really just one thing. It's just that, that one thing opens a proverbial flood gate and then I'm spinning/drowning again.

So, here's the thing...

No. Wait. Let me back up.



When I was a freshman in high school, my mother bought the first computer we ever owned. It was one of those very colorful macs that came out while we were partying like it was 1999. Probs cause it was 1999. The mac was purple, like candy. We got AOL. Do you remember AOL? I do. Anytime I hear of someone still having AOL I think to myself, why? Why would you still want AOL?




Anyway, my mom instructed us on the dangers of the interent. There are creep ass grown men who will use this magical thing called the interweb to pretend to be young girls/boys to lure us like the witch did with candy. Except, they'll use acronyms instead of candy. But the computers all look like candy because this is America. So, you know, whatevs. Hello New Millenium! That's what we were told.

The internet really did kind of scare the shit out of me then. So my mother's plan worked. I def did not give out personal information. In fact, I lied a lot. Told people in chat rooms (remember those?) I was older/younger all of the time. I don't think i was ever honest. Ever. It was easy. Through the magic of the interweb, some wires and floating molecules, like in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, I could be whoever I wanted to be and no one would know the difference.





About a year ago I met a friend through a friend. We'll call him Adam. Cause God picked that first and what have you. It's a good name. So, I met Adam through a friend I had already known for years. We will call friend "B" Cain. Cause that's what Adam named the son he had that did a very bad thing and set a whole mess of shit into motion. He was the shifty son, if you will.




(Has anyone noticed how much I've mentioned the B-I-B-L-E in the last paragraph? Who's proud that I retained all that and that the computer did not light on fire when I wrote it? Yep.)

So I met Adam, sort of. Followed his band and Cain to LA, proverbially of course. I followed on my end of the telephone and the interweb sitting in my two bedroom Detroit apt. typetypetyping "love the new songs guys" etc. etc. etc.

A lot of shit went down in LA. I heard about all of it in great detail. Sat in the same apt. wishing them well, hoping it would all turn out alright. I listened to Cain; I was his shoulder. He listened to me; he was my shoulder. We laughed. We cried. It was better than CATS. We have weathered many storms in this past year alone and I never, ever thought it would end the way it did.

My head started spinning about a week ago.

I was in Rori's apt waiting while she did her hair. Music was spilling from her iPod, trying and failing to drown out the sounds of the most annoying cat that has ever lived. The music swelled and I started to feel a little down.

You see, Adam died about a month ago and the lead singer pleading from her iPod reminded me a hell of a lot of Adam. I was very sad the week after I learned he passed. In fact, I wrote about it here, on the interweb.

The spinning, the drowning started right.....there.

I was instantly reminded of an email Val sent me, warning me of a discovery that I would make if I did a little research. "Search [redacted] on iTunes. You're not gonna be happy." That's what she sent me. I did not heed her warning. Truth is, I wasn't near my own computer and completely forgot about it.

Until I was standing over the iPod staring at a playlist that was more than a little familiar. It was all a lie. Adam, the band, the friendship, LA, the record deal, the music, the stories, oh the countless stories. They were all fucking lies, fabricated by Cain, the boy I used to regard as a brother.

Spinning. Spinning. Spinning.

I sat on it for days, not knowing what I wanted to do with it. Why? I thought. Why the fuck would someone do that? And then I didn't want to know. Because the ends have certainly not justified the means.

There's no feeling quite like learning that you mourned the death of a person that never really existed. They may have existed on some level, but certainly not on the level that I was led to believe. I felt stupid and then I felt angry. And now I feel nothing, except maybe confused.

It's all so very surreal, the thing that dreams, or rather nightmares, are made of. Cheesy music videos and poorly written films end the way this friendship feel like it has. "It was all just a figment of your/his imagination." That's basically what it feels like. But it's not. This reality, or hyper-reality, or interweb-reality, or god knows what. It's real. It happened.

The lies were epic, legendary, if perhaps something would've been gained from all of the effort. Instead, a lot was lost, friendships were shattered, trust: a thing of the past.

I'll tell you what, I have told some pretty crazy lies in my day. But this, this is way beyond me. I don't know that I'll ever understand it. I don't think that's possible.

So, really, here I am. Mourning the death of another friend who was actually the same friend. Whether or not he actually goes through with it this time is completely irrelevant. Because it's over.