First of all, imagine something for me. Imagine someone, it’s imperative that this someone is close to you, maybe the colleague at work that has a great back-and-forth as well as heart-to-hearts with you now and then, or the jovial character that causes mischief, possibly like a younger brother influence in you life. Regardless of who you choose, you’ve known them for some time, enough so that they are regarded as a friend, someone that has touched your life, gently or otherwise.
Secondly imagine you are on the other side of the world from them, travelling; backpacking or in luxury, this part is irrelevant, it's the distance that is crucial here. Now the aforementioned person and yourself have not spoken for sometime, possibly a month, give or take a week or so. Why this is doesn’t matter either, it is not out of malice, its just because contacting home isn’t necessarily in the forefront of your mind when you are in some paradise, thousands of miles away.
Now this time imagine you are in the glorious Hard Rock Cafe, chilling with a cool beverage in the air conditioned indoors away from bustling city streets and any stretch of poverty or filth. When in a moment you receive a message on the pristine screen of your perfect new iPhone, this message reads with the line “Have you heard about…?” (in regards to your friend). You thus confuse this with some twisted joke, however the message comes from someone you are close to, a person you trust. This person speaks of something you can only muster to believe is a deception, it cannot be true. So what do you do? You enquire; though they cannot give a sufficient answer, so you immediately ask in a group chat of individuals that should be able to answer quite well. You message with urgency, hoping that one of the other people you regard as a friend may be able to settle your uncertain mind.
Yet in spite of your queries, instead of answers you are confronted with Professionalism. A nominated member of this thread has now told you, away from the eyes of your peers, that the subject cannot be spoken of in this thread, and that if you have any questions you may speak to someone you don’t care for. It’s not their fault, but you question in god's grace why you would ever want to speak to a callous stranger about such a personal and conflicting subject.
Your friend has just killed themselves, and you have nobody to talk to about it, the funeral will be soon and you’re not due home for weeks, the person you're travelling with is completely useless, and you're not capable of comprehending the situation properly alone, it is eating its way though your fragile self. What now? You can't cry just yet, there's an overnight train to be on, there's a bill to pay at the bar. You turn your phone away, you shut yourself off and remain quiet. The mind is stirring on its own, as if it isn’t yours anymore, it has its own agenda since you, nor it can understand whats happened. This feeling is similar to the felling of lucid dreaming, but you don’t have that same control anymore.
There are very few things that can turn the sanity in a person, Death and The-Unknown are two of these very things and I was stuck with them baring themselves on me day in day out as I wandered though the next few weeks in a haze of bedlam. James was akin to a brother to me, and losing him like that was unbearable, and the things I dreaded the most when coming to terms with what was happening, were the conversations I knew would unveil. At the airport when my mother as well as my now ex’s mother came to greet us, the "friends" back home and then (though I didn’t know at the time) having to explain to new friends what was to bother.
At first it was total shock, no words left my lips and no tears fell, I had objectives to focus on and an alien city to navigate, but once I stopped, and got on the train, laid my head down and we set off, it all came rushing at once. This poor girl by my side, having to listen to my punishing tears, utterly incapable of consoling me, and I wouldn’t talk to her. I physically couldn’t. She cried for me to stop and tried holding me but I wouldn’t accept it. The whole night spent awake on the train, as it rattled its way to the south of India. On arrival I composed myself and pushed through the day until it came to the night and once more my mind couldn’t fixate on the marvels of the strange surroundings and light of the day, it found its way back to the solemn burden it dragged with it. Slowly these thoughts would take away the night, replacing it with fits of tears and melancholy. As the sympathy faded from the person accompanying me, the sensations I was feeling only worsened.