Crossfire

I've been sitting on the floor next to my bed for over an hour, playing with a necklace around my neck that used to belong to someone very important to me. A very good friend of mine put it around my neck years ago. No special reason, it wasn't a gift, it was just us being silly as usual. I always have necklaces and bracelets on me, I guess that day I had nothing and he found it odd so he ''fixed it''. Fixed it like telling me to sit still and put it around my neck while commenting my perfume, saying I smell nice. Lol. Ironically to this day that very perfume he liked is one of my favourites. Maybe that much more because it reminds me of him, I don't have it no more, only wish I did, but it's one of those things, a song, a smell that triggers strong memories…The necklace itself, it's nothing special, the type of chain soldiers use for their dog tags but I guess today it's more precious than solid gold. You guessed it right, said friend is no longer with us and I wake up everyday bitter and angry and not wanting to accept it. I can't play God obviously but I can't shut off the anger I feel. I can't say I don't feel like it should be anyone else but him. I can't say I'm not angry when I see people wasting their lives when he didn't get to fully live his. I'm angry and I'm bitter and I'm furious and I can say that out loud.

I don't talk about him much. Part of me doesn't want to, part of me wants to scream how amazing he was. Part of me is dying on the inside right now at the use ''was'' I shouldn't be using was. It's not right. Part of me wants to keep him, us, our friendship hidden. Because people tend to ruin beutiful things. Part of me wants to tell the world what they're missing out on, why the world is fucking dark and gloomy and why the sun will never be as bright again. 

No matter what I say will give him justice anyways, no matter how loud I scream about his beautiful personality, there aren't words. No words to describe him. There are approx. 470 000 words in English language and it's not enough. Maybe I can tell you about some other stuff. Moments. Little pieces of our friendship….

You know there's not many things that scare me. Put a knife on my throat and chances  are I'll laugh. But, there's one thing that I absolutely can't stand. Spiders. God damn spiders are the worst thing to ever happen to this planet. And I live with people who don't seem to understand that no I'm not dramatic, and no fear is not my fault. I can't help it. I know it's irrational, I know it's stupid, I know it's pointless, I know they can't hurt me (in theory – y'all heard of those poisonous Australian beasts right?) but that doesn't take away from being afraid of them. And all my life I dealt with mockery, laughter, being told I'm stupid…and then one day, near panic attack due to what I can only call an eight legged huge monster crawling up my arm, I was shaking, almost sobbing, when said friend comes running, literally because he heard me scream. I didn't expect mockery mind you, he's not that kinda person but I did not expect what he did either. Threw the spider off, and very soothingly hands on my arms, told me to calm down, to take a deep breath and that my fear is normal, rational, nothing to be ashamed of. That was enough to make me sob. The understanding, love and care…it may not seem like a big deal to you but to me it was.

I don't consider myself an artist you know. Not in the real sense anyways. An amateur at best. I was used to getting more negative comments than positive all my life. I live in a hateful country and no matter what you do, you're never good enough, but that's alright, I mean it's not alright as in alright, people shouldn't treat each other like that. It's only alright in the sense, I knew what people are like, I knew what to expect, I grew up being my worst enemy and critique, always putting myself down. And him? He was my biggest fan and supporter. No matter what I did, what I drew, what I wrote, he thought it was the greatest thing ever and he never let me doubt myself or put myself down because there's always someone better, ''yeah Nikki there may be but that doesn't mean that you can't be them someday, they started somewhere too''. He encouraged me to write boldly, and let my feelings on paper. ''Bleed on paper''. I guess that's what I'm doing now, not bleeding on paper but bleeding on these words I type. Typing works…talking doesn't. I feel myself getting choked up. And that's besides the point, nobody would understand, I often feel alone in my pain, it's hard to open up, and it's hard to talk to people. 

Maybe I could tell you about those countless moments when life was just too hard, things were overwhelming and he'd find me crying somewhere away from people. There were no words spoken, no words needed. He'd hug me and it would hug the sadness away. Sometimes I could swear I feel his arms around me and his lips on the top of my hair or forehead. It's crazy but I guess that's just my mind playing tricks on me when the missing gets unbearable. He'd always tell me that nothing, no person, no thing, no problem is worth my tears and that we'll solve it together. He was my support system in more ways I can count and having him gone, well that explains why the fuck I'm so lost and broken, because a part of me is literally missing. 

Maybe I could tell you about these things around his neck and wrists, thick chains and too many bracelets. They make this specific noise, a rattling one, clinking metal. It would put a smile on my face when he walked behind me (or tried to sneak up to me) and I always heard him before I saw him. These days that very sound breaks my heart. I keep expecting to see him and I don't. And it hurts each time. The kind of pain that splits your soul in two. The kind of pain you can't explain to someone who never felt it. 

Perhaps I could tell you about countless scars that are littered around my body. Arms mostly. The way nothing set me straight like he did. Never angry, never accusatory. Always supportive. Always nice. Always loving. Just firm enough to make me realise that what I'm doing isn't the answer. 

Maybe I could tell you how he was one of the few people there for me when my life took a really bad turn. Things were as bad as fucking possible and I didn't see no way out. I didn't know what to do, I didn't know how to move on. And he gave me a glorious speech about life and love and loss and meaning of everything and ''you're a tough boss bitch you gonna let those fuckers fuck around like this?'' always with the colorful language but always knowing just what to say. Always knowing what to do. Always shielding me from more pain, more heartbreak. I just never knew he's going to be the one breaking my heart like this someday. 

He never told me the whole story, he never told me our time together is limited. He never told me he's basically living on borrowed time. And I love him even more for that. I was angry at first, I never got my last goodbye, I felt like he robbed me of that, but he knew me better than I know myself, he knew I wouldn't be able to handle it. He knew I'd lose my mind always wondering, always fearing I'm losing time, always being scared it's the last time we talk. I'd never sleep again if I knew. He knew that so he never let it slip. And he was just tough as nails, never caring about his own struggles but always attentive to his friends, family. Always there for all of us no matter what.  There's not many people like him out there, which is why each time one is taken, the world is a little bit darker and the sun a little less brighter.

I didn't plan on making this personal, but maybe that's a way to let go of some of the grief, some of the anger I feel. Let's face it that's probably impossible but maybe…it's worth a try. 

It's been a challenging couple of years for me. It felt like when bad shit started it just kept on going without an end in sight. I guess if you glanced at the side, the ''fallen heroes'' dedication box, all the musicians I admire and we lost too soon…I suppose you noticed one name in a different color. Yeah. I don't like talking about it. Just as the friend above this wound is fresh too. I didn't imagine losing my dad at this age. No ''kid'' ever does. I mean yeah it's normal, kids bury their parents, it should never be the other way around, but not at this age. 

Just like the friend above this was a shock too. In a blink of an eye, someone you love is gone and you're left here with grief, anger, emotional baggage with no hope of ever processing. Relationship I had with my dad was complex, ups and downs like we all have but I can only blame our stubborn nature and not being able to talk like normal people about what's bothering us. We lost so much time due to plain and simple being stupid. But I am grateful for the time we've got, at least there was less left unsaid. 

Maybe no real closure is what's bothering me, I was pushed aside, from seeing him in the hospital, from planning the funeral, from going through any of his stuff…it's crazy but it makes everything seem surreal. Sort of…I don't know like a lie? I know I sound crazy I'm aware but that's how I feel. 

It's another aspect of all of this that I don't want to talk about but, in such cases one can expect to lean on their family. I think. Don't ask me, my only idea of normal functioning relationships is from Disney movies and we all know what's that like. I didn't expect much, I didn't expect money, I didn't expect their worlds to start revolving around me, god forbid, but I expected a little support, a little help being lost in a world I didn't understand, a world of pain. And I most definatelly did not expect what I got. A lawsuit. A lawsuit based on lies and deception and so much hatred which to this day I'm not sure what I did to deserve. 

It was me who lost everything when the family cleaned out his apartment, making it as if they erased his entire existance, it's unbearable pain to not have any memories of my dad. No pictures, none of his favourite music, none of his own music, not even his favourite lighter, or a shirt or two to remind me of him. I know you don't need objects to remember someone but that doesn't take away from the fact that it would be nice to have something. Instead I was met with cold walls, empty, impersonal apartment that could belong to anyone. Suddenly my name was on the ownership papers and it felt so distant I could never call it home. More prison than it was home. 

And it was me who nearly lost everything when the family ordered an expensive funeral, one I was pushed away from, couldn't pick out the music, couldn't pick out the flowers and was tricked into allowing it billed to me. It was me who was left alone with the huge bill and no money to pay it, while the family shamlessly received envelopes at the funeral. ''Something to help you with expences''. I had bill collectors breathing down my neck, threathening to throw me out of my house. I didn't want their money, I didn't want their help, I just wanted a little support, I wanted honesty, I wanted I don't even know what. I wanted a little bit of a say. I wanted something to make me feel like less of a stranger at my own dads funeral. I didn't get one card in the mail. One single card. Like I never mattered. Like I was never a part of that family. Today I'm glad, I don't want to be associated with those people, but at the time it was just pain pain pain. They lost a distant relative, a second son they never cared about, but I lost a dad. Each daughter and each father reading this knows what's it like. Every daughter is a daddy's girl, might be 5 or 50, that doesn't change. And it's not at all possible for me to process that my dad will never be there when I finally graduate, get married, perhaps have kids someday. I can't process we're never seeing the Stones together like we planned or about one hundred other things we planned on doing.

And I can't process how the one person I'd want at the funeral with me was my boyfriend and the family didn't even invite him. He wasn't welcome, because he isn't good enough for them. ''Just a musician'' not a space shuttle engineer or a doctor or a fucking sleazy politician. Today that's another thing I'm happy about, I'd be embarassed, he shouldn't see the type of people that have my same last name. Which is about the only simmilarity. I am nothing like them and thank god. But looking at it back then. Pain. Anger. Lonliness. Hatred. 

I guess that alone would be enough to send someone spiraling. In a time when you need love and support and are still dealing with things you never faced before. Bills, realestate, bank loans… it was a type of growing up I didn't expect at that age but it is what it is right? I was thrown in the water and did my best to swim. What was the last drop in the fucking ocean was the first birthday without dad, that was bad enough, no text, no nothing, but on that early morning october eight the mailman rings, see I didn't think much about it, my boyfriend sends me flowers every birthday as did my friend, the one mentioned above so imagine my surprise when instead of flowers the mailman with a glum expression gives me a thick envelope from the court. A lawsuit. From the family. Suing me for over 100 000 euros, claiming I owe them all this money. I won't get into how and why, it's a long dirty story and I'm already at the brink of losing it, sobbing, or smashing dishes. Maybe both. Nobody should get sued on their birthday. Nobody should get sued by their family in the first place. But unfortunally that's the ''culture'' here. We love doing it. Ironically they demand money from me I don't have and have no way of getting and give me 10 days to pay. Laughable. Here I am completely destroyed with guilt and grief and that was basically just the cherry on top. Banks breathing down my neck threathening to take everything I have to repay the loan that I inherited, companies threathening me with lawsuits over unpaid bills. Insurance business' badgering me to pay for insurance I didn't sign for and then add expensive lawyer bills on top of all that.

One would think things would end at that, but I can not literally CAN NOT put into words the agony, the pain, the horror and torture the next two years of court battles were. The sheer lies told, the pure hatred which I can't for the life of me imagine where it came from. What kind of a vile, despicable human being actually has that much anger and hatred inside them? I can't imagine doing something like this to people I hate, nevermind someone that shares my DNA. Sitting in a court room listening to lies, nastiness about you, about your dad from his own mother and brother….that's next level crazy. That's something out of Hollywood movies. You can never imagine it happening to you. 

I didn't have time to grieve properly. I didn't have time to process, I was trying to finish college exams and struggling with lawyers in between. And I did it. I did it why? Because said best friend kept incouraging me, telling me I can do it, telling me I'm a tough bitch and a wolf and I gotta keep biting and never let them see an ounce of pain or fear. I was about ready to give up so many times and he didn't let me. He called me at two in the morning, listening to all this family drama, entertaining ideas about drowning each and every one of them with me. He was loving and supporting in a time I needed love and support so much, and I have no doubt if I called him to help me get rid of them all he'd be there with a shovel and an alibi. All this pain, all this torture and he could wipe it all away with a pretty smile, tight hug and reasurring words ''it's all gonna be okay''. And even if it wasn't it didn't matter because it felt okay. That was what mattered.

It's been a long two year battle when I got the news I won. I didn't think I would, because let's be honest, placing trust in courts and justice…yeah that's usually a lost battle from the get go. My lawyer expences were paid by them, not in full, a third maybe, and that was that. All I had to show for my pain and torment of two years was less than 2k on my bank account. Maybe that's why I'm so angry. I wanted them to hurt. Hurt like I did. No, hurt worse, ten times worse. Twist the knife like they did on me so many times.  I know it's not worth it, I know I'm only hurting myself with this, I know they don't care, they never did, but something doesn't allow me to let it go. Maybe the fact I never got closure, maybe the fact that I never got revenge, never got something I would consider as fair. Maybe the sheer treatment. I don't know what's wrong with me, everything and nothing. I am not the type of human they made me, I am not a monster, I hate what I became because of them, hate it but I can't help it. I can't fix myself. 

And then what? You know me, from my words on here I mean, you know what's the one thing, what's my therapy, what's my happy place, what makes me feel alive, and sane, and happy, and okay. Concerts. Music. That's my passion, that's all I live for. And just when the court battles ended, just when I felt like maybe I can breathe, start to heal, start to somehow move on, or try at least. Corona happens and all my concerts are cancelled, tickets returned. And now here we are, second year into this madness and I don't know what to do with myself.  I feel like that passion inside me is gone, the fire is out. I feel lost, like I'm somewhere in space. Existing and not existing at the same time. Going through the motions without any real motivation to even get out of bed in the morning never mind living. It seems ridiculous and crazy I know, but some people have therapy and some people have music. I can't stand that I've been without that adrenalising feeling for so long. That lost in the music, lost in a happy place where pain doesn't exist for so long.

To me music is that, concerts are that. You check the pain and heartbreak at the door. Negative emotions are not allowed in a concert venue, you feel the music rattle through you and you feel no pain. You're not alone, there's thousands of other people with their own sad (or happy) stories around you, from all over the world, every color, every nationality and you're all there because you love that one same thing. I love that so much. And that security system, that happy place, that's gone now, and it's a big question mark on when we get that back. In a normal scale. 60 000 people, screaming along to the lyrics at a stadium, no restriction, no bullshit. Sigh. 

I don't know you guys. Life has been a lot lately. I wish I had something smart to say. Some advice, some…I don't know something uplifting. But I don't have the right words. It was always my friends department to uplift people, to make them feel better, to make them less alone. I guess all I got is the desire to be more like him, stronger, tougher, a survivor, being able to standing up without falling, but I guess in a way, in my own way I'm strong too, fighting for this long, people who fall and manage to pick themselves up again hold all my admiration. And I only hope one day I manage to pick myself up too. Make my friend proud of me, be more like him, positive, nice, an inspiration to someone. I hope I get to move on with my life. Process the grief, the anger, the loss. Process everything and maybe, just maybe find a tiny bit of happiness. I don't really want much just a little bit of breathing room, love and understanding and a life that's a life worth living not just surviving.