Pre-Wedding Jitters

Dear Peanut,

We're all moved in. Everything is all neat and organized except the office.

The office which was your room.

I have started calling it "Nick's office" even though he keeps correcting me, "Our office". I don't go in there. There's too many memories.

It's much safer in Clarice's room, now our room, because my only memories of that room are of snooping for sex toys. Bwahaha.

They're getting married tomorrow. Clarice and Trevor. Your brother's getting married.

Thinking about that just makes me think about how far WE have come.

I mean it's funny how it all started with Trevor.

I remember the first time I saw him. It was at a funeral. Instead of being all respectful of the dead, I was checking out guys. I thought he looked like Mark. But he would be a better Mark because he wasn't 1,500 miles away or a douchebag. At least in my head. I was dreaming of a happy romantic life with the stranger boy who had on cute nerdy glasses and kind of looked like a non-douchey, lives in my city, version of Mark.

So when Jimi was all "Hey meet my new friend Trevor." I was all "HELLS YEAH!" And then we hung out. A LOT. And then I realized this guy who looked a little bit like Mark and lived just around the corner from me? He was kind of a freaking douche bag!

But he had an awesome sister. An awesome sister I was COMPLETELY in non-lesbian love with.

So I started hanging out with you all the time instead of him. And he was all pissed off that you stole all of his friends with your awesome magical boob powers.

I remember that like it was yesterday.

... I talked to your mom a little. She's excited about the slideshow she made for the wedding and sad that you couldn't help her with it...

So tomorrow is going to be painful. The wedding. Everything about it is just going to scream "NICOLE!!!" at me.

Nick's boss asked him if he wanted to work that night. It was a tempting offer. We could use the money and I could use an excuse not to deal with feeling like I've just been kicked in the face by a horse on steroids. But I think if I chickened out of going, you'd be pissed off.

I can just hear it.

"HOW DID YOU NOT GO TO MY BROTHER'S WEDDING?! ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?! ARE. YOU. FREAKING. KIDDING ME?!!!!!!!! *Insert my first, middle and last name here, said like a swear word*" And then you'd punch me in the boob.

God. I miss you.

I have to go do non-crying stuff now.

I love you so much it's retarded,
Leedol

Gina Vagnino AKA "Your place or mine... GINA?"

Dear Peanut,

I keep having dreams about you. Horrible dreams. That you're lost and I can't find you.

There's all these things I want to tell you but can't...

Like the other night when Nick got so excited at the mention of sex that while he was hastily trying to take off his pants he actually KNEED ME IN THE VAGINA. Straight in the vagina! The kind of pain that I haven't felt in that region since I was 7 and impaled myself on the seat of a bicycle.

What the hell, right?

On another note. We're almost all moved in. Walking into the apartment for the first time was kind of like being punched in the balls. (I used to have balls, that's how I know.)

Also my eyebrows are on strike. They'll be okay. They're quietly becoming evermore beastly and waiting for you to come back and work your magic.

Going to the beach this weekend with my parents.

Miss you.

Love,
Leedol

I know a corpse when I see one.

Dear Peanut,

Life is a little sadder today.

Yesterday I realized that quite literally nobody texts me now. I can forget to check my phone the entire day and nobody will be there to say "WHAT THE HECK LADY?! I TEXTED YOU 13,057 TIMES!" at the end of it.

Besides that this morning I found out that... Remember Monica? My best friend from when I was little? Whose ghetto wedding I was supposed to be in but then wasn't? Her mom died. She was 41. She died in a hotel room in Salinas. Alone. She had just got kicked out of wherever she was living. Apparently the next day she was supposed to start rehab because of her alcohol addiction. The rehab place put her up in a hotel for just the one night.

So she drank too much and passed out in the bath tub.

She drowned. In the bathtub. Because she drank so much alcohol she passed out. The DAY before she was supposed to start rehab.

What the hell Irony?! You're such a whore!

When I was little she was like a mom to me. Like a "cool" mom... Who left her 10 year old daughter and daughter's best friend alone all night with the man who molested her when she was their age so she could go clubbing...

I guess that makes her kind of uncool, huh? I always expected her to get better though. I mean I was JUST thinking about her DAYS before I found out she died... Just thinking about how good she was. You know, underneath it all.

My mom says "That could have easily been me. We came from the same life." I guess her husband was a drug dealer too. She just veered left a little when my mom went right. And now she's just gone.

So tonight I'm going to her... viewing. I don't get why anyone would want to look at a dead person. It's disturbing to me. I mean, what am I supposed to say?

"Yup. She looks pretty dead to me! Lifeless lump of flesh and bones, this one. You guys called it!"

I'm sad but I haven't cried yet. I say I'm in shock but I think maybe I'm just numb.

I needed someone to talk to about this. You're my best friend, but I can't talk to you. So I wrote you a letter.

Love,
Leedol