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this is how you remind me...

18 June 2005 - 13:57

"Yo se que estoy preocupandome de mas porque... por... por Marcos..."
"S�, pero tienes que ver que no es Marcos."
"Ya se que no, solamente que no quiero que le pase lo mismo que a Marcos."

Of course I'm overreacting. I know he's fine, and Mom's right. Bad news travel fastest, she says, and she's gotta point. She says I'm being overly pessimistic, thinking Aaron is dead, but I can't help it. Marco refuses to get out of my head. I keep seeing him in my thoughts, when I close my eyes, and I silently pray that Aaron's alright, that he doesn't suffer the same fate as my long-gone friend. But I tell 'Ama I'd rather expect the worst and get a good surprise on Monday, than try to ignore this feeling of dread and receive some shocking news when I go back to work. I don't wanna have that feeling like someone just whammed me in the gut take me by surprise all over again. I've had enough of that.

But if Aaron's alright... if that little fuckin' pipsqueak is fine y no estaba muerto, handaba de parranda, as the song says... damn! Then I'll kill him myself for worrying me this way. I shouldn't have to go through this, dammit! Why the fuck won't he answer his damn cell phone?! He has no fuckin' right to remind me of my dead friend, has no right to make all these memories flood back to where I shake inside and my eyes grow moist. I don't wanna be afraid for his safety. If he's fine, he's not worth it. Mom says I'm just traumatized. After all, I did fall into a severe depression after Marco died. "Es natural," she told me when I barely picked at my food this morning. "Te recuerda a Marco."
"They don't look alike at all..." I began, trying to find a way to break free the image of Marco's dead and battered body.
"Pero te lo recuerda," 'Ama insisted.

And it's true. Aaron reminds me of Marco for some odd reason. Maybe it's because he's the same age Marco would be if he were alive now. Or because they're both very shy, courteous and very nice boys. They're both good kids. Were good kids. At least, Marco is a 'were'.

"�Yo no quiero que se muera!" I burst out furiously as 'Ama continued to regard me seriously. And I don't want him dead. Really, I don't. Call me selfish if you wish, but it's not really for Aaron that I fear for his life. I just don't wanna go through it all again. Not again, ever again.
"Pero no tiene porque morir," Mom said soothingly, trying to calm my ass down. He shouldn't have to die. "Of course he shouldn't," le dije, "but then again, Marco didn't have to die either. And he did."

In the end 'Ama left me alone to it. She knows that nothing she says will make me feel any better. Not until I see Aaron's little punk ass on Monday and I see for myself that he's breathing. God, I am traumatized, ain't I? Dammit, Marco! Why the fuck did I have to know you?! I know you can hear me scream inside my head at night, you little fucker, you can, can't you? And you hear me pray for you and you probably just fuckin' laugh. And you know where Aaron is, whether he's with you now or not, you just won't tell me. Or you'll whisper it in my ear, scream it laughing in my face knowing damn well I can't hear you anymore! Why did you have to die? Why did you have to go out that night?!

Why did you have to leave me all alone?

Because Aaron or no Aaron, I am alone.

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