Tom, Tom, Tom

I couldn’t stop crying this morning. I went and got in the shower and even that didn’t help. I called Rebecca and said I wasn’t coming in, with my voice breaking. I had a joint, I’m not sure that that made me feel any better.

I was going to call He-who-shall-never-be-mentioned to see if he wanted to have lunch, but after he told me yesterday that he thinks Tom should die – too sick, he’ll never be the person he was, he’ll never be able to live the life he wants to live, he will be too disabled – I’m not sure that He-who-shall-never-be-mentioned is the right person for me to spend this day with.

You mustn't morn him before he's dead, said Perry.

I’m morning him before he’s dead, I so am. Was.

Tom and I will be able to have a good laugh about this one day.

I lay on the couch and gazed out at the day beginning, well, continuing. It was quiet and still.

SMS. 8.54. Still on 4 dinner? Should I ask Jill? – Rachel

I spoke to Rachel about not going for dinner. The last powerful female (2nd last, Jill) that I know, who know Tom, that’s all I can do. The rest is up to you.

He’s probably ready to go Chris, said Rachel.

But I’m not ready for him to go, I replied.

Why do I have to go and say good bye to one of the greatest guys that ever lived when all those other wastes of space out there get to live?

There is no god, babe, just survival of the fittest.

I’ve smoked no cigarettes. I think I have had three joints. It’s 9.45am.

I guess, in the end, what will be will be. But this is a lousy option. This is not how it was supposed to work out!