Mouth agape, the  bad news, it travels into me like a stream of ghosts. Knocked back at the mere mention of it, the news kicks my molars, and reaches around and ties my tongue into a trillion knots and yanks.  It’s having a silent fucking dance party in my mouth by the time it figures out it can go into my brain; and as I feel it wash my mind in its wicked words, I turn and look at you as my eyes melt into seas of shock. I’d sob if I knew I could count on you, if your arms held security. But you’re over there swaying like you’re some baby seal that got clubbed; and then you run away.  You act as if the words are poltergeists punching you in the face, instead of me in the gut. Nice, asshole.

Over the period of 14 months a few years ago, when I lived this song by Bastille to the letter, I received  a string of news that most people have spaced out over a lifetime. You’ve had a heart attack. I don’t know what I expected, maybe chicken soup and a marathon L Word binge sess. I don’t know, maybe a pat on the head.  Not apathy. Not stumbling for the door, as I stumbled home from the hospital by myself. I knew I learned to be self-sufficient eons ago, I didn’t know it was because of the silence of moments like this. I know that people don’t like to see their worst fears manifest in anyone, least of all a young friend; but holy christ on a cracker, I always assumed at least that children’s TV programming taught us what we do when someone’s trouble: listen, and if sickness strikes bring them beacoup amount of food until they’re fat. At least I learned that.

Look, as Bastille say, ‘some people say nothing, good ones engage’. When bad news busts through the door, people want some ‘words of [wanton] distraction’ to pull them back from the edge. See if they want a hug, maybe a fuck.  They’re not looking for ‘the perfect answer; but, I don’t know,  maybe your presence.  A lot of people I knew then have written me since, ashamed they fled.  It didn’t surprise me, that was my assumption confirmed. If this Bastille song does anything, maybe it’ll keep from doing the personal tragedy runner. Don’t be that person to someone else. Just, I don’t know, put your head on their goddamn shoulder or let them do that to you.

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