I couldn’t get out of bed today. I know I have to get out there. I know I have to find him, but I can’t deal with it all right now. Sure other people are starting to notice that he’s gone now but they say it with the mild surprise of someone seeing a month without rain.

I keep getting these weird little side looks after I lost it in front of them all. It didn’t help my case. I hate that attitude people have that if you lose your temper it means you must have the inferior opinion. Shouting does not mean that I’m wrong it means I am fed up, that I feel angry. And to get truly angry you have to care about what you are talking about. I don’t want to be shouting, I want each of us to listen to each other and for the truth to win out.

I can’t even shout now. All I can do is sob. I’m writing this all out with tears streaming down my face. I’m not sure what these current tears are for. It could be for Keith, but it might be about the deep emptiness of death or the fact that I don’t like the smell of my own sweat clinging to me right now.

I keep swapping between wanting to run around town and curling tighter in on myself. The only thing that does seem to be moving about with any speed is my stomach which is churning itself into knots. I hate how people try to separate physical and mental pain. A stomach bug makes me feel just as sick as the anxiety of another disapproving face. Pain is pain. And right now I wish someone would be there to help me get rid of this ache gnawing me from the inside out.

I mean what can I really do? I’ve looked for him. I’ve told people what is going on. I’ve tried to work out exactly what happened to him and yet I’m back at square bloody one. Sitting in my pyjamas on the stump.

I want to throw things. I want to get drunk. To go back and yell worse things at those goddamn sneering faces. I want to burn things. I want to do something stupid. I want to get hurt. I want to hurt others. I want to cry. I want to sing out the bawdiest song I can imagine. I want to walk naked through the streets crying Godiva. I want to break in their doors to search their attics for skeletons. I want them to feel what I feel to spread the pain. I want to disappear. I want to have my parents take me home warm and safe. I want to see Keith again.

But I don’t really want those things even as I do. It’s like a tug of war in my head. A really unbalanced one where I have an elephant holding the line for Team reason, but I can’t stop the monkeys of Team Chaos from pulling even if they don’t stand a chance. So it gets muddy and messy up there even as nothing really changes.

Hang on I need to put you all down. There is someone with bright blue hair waving at me over the garden wall.