My great friend Michelle has gone atop the cloud's structure. She's gone and left her lungs and her impressions behind. These aren't all of the writings that I've written that have involved her. These are just the paragraphs that I've chosen to share. After M's death, this is the only song that I could listen to. I listened to it the morning that I got the call[s] of her death. I listened to it for 2 straight solid weeks. I listen to it... & it still makes me cry. june : 17 : 2005 : adopted mother michelle And I just found out what has happened. You've already been missing from work for 3+ months. Out with a bad back. The reasoning for your pain the doctor's couldn't figure out. So you and they and me and everyone else. Figured it out all together. You have cancer. Sitting in it's own dumb fucking ugly rocking chair. Right next to your shell-shocked spine. I'm so sorry. I'm so sad and breaking on the inside for you. My heart won't stay inside it's normal cemented box. I cried as soon as I heard it. Hoping that I had heard it wrong. Hoping that some asshole was a sick joke teller with no morals or decency. I love you. You're one of the nicest people that I've ever met. By a far fucking long shot. You are the nicest. And I'm not turning these sentences out for the situation's sake. That type of shit is never in or on top of my agenda. I tell the truth just the way it is. And you don't deserve this. I want you to beat this so bad. Counter fucking punching your odds to their deserved death. I'd do anything I could for you. If it would make a difference. Even if it wouldn't. You were one of the only 2 there for me during the disaster period of my life. When my mother turned all of her back on me. She next to hated me. Yet you still went to lunch with me and took me to museums. You kept pushing me towards art. Both others and my own. I never got tired of you asking to see it. Asking if I did it. I'd even let you read my writings. While you waited for the assembly of my book. You taught me how to do laundry and even listened to and liked my music. You gave me advice. Tried to explain the doings of an upset parent. You listened to me always. Always smiling and accepting and loving and constantly caring. I like the way you laugh. I told you you were better to me than my own family. And you told me that no one could replace family. june : 17 : 2005 : ... I still can't get over it. When something is directly affecting all of my emotional triggers. I'm usually stuck with it for days. Sometimes years. It's just the way I am. I am with feelings. I do care about other's feelings. I come way over the fucking top at times. Most of the time. But you'll learn how to take me. Or at least you should. Over time. july : 25 : 2005 : monday mode seeping through Filling yourself with gullible gallons and thank you-ing the dumb things that people hand you in life. Could possibly be one of those ridiculous hands that you're stuck with and forced to play. Could be the only chance you'll ever have to learn and strengthen. In a dramatically different sense. It shouldn't have happened. A friend trying to stay atop the life fight with cancer. I wear Lance's LIVESTRONG bracelet. Day in and day out. Ignoring it's late fashion trend and mediad magic. I'm supporting her with a simple recognition. A $1 rubberized tribute. Injected with plenty of meaning. Plenty of love and admiration. If you can't indirectly feed off of someone else's triumphs and blood coated accomplishments. What will it say about you. What can you say about yourself. When the fire blows out. I've got a lack of follow-through. But feel at ease with my aggressive style of love. Defending to the death is the only way it can really mean something. Impacting your eyeballs with it's largely constructed structure. Taking too much of the blame. Just for the good look's sake. Wanting reassurance and a mother's overtone. Make it okay and I won't know how to handle it. Com(continued)