I've been thinking about Elliot recently
Or perhaps, more correctly, about the events surrounding that time.
Elliot stuck his head into a gas oven when he was twenty, or maybe twenty-one.
Of course it was all over a girl; a girl who dropped him.
All because he was never enough; or so he thought.
I went to his funeral; we all did.
Tags, Tim, and many of those who worked with him at the ODT.
They played Genesis; I still cant listen to "In it too Deep", or "Throwing it all away" without being teleported back to that time and space.
There was an open casket; baptism by fire, my first funeral without family. People touched him; said "Goodbye Mate"; stuff like that. I didn't know what to say really; mumbled goodbye. Wasn't sure what to feel.
Thinking about it now I realize what an arsehole he was.
I wonder, what possessed me back then to think that giving it all away over a girl was romantic in some way?
I now put those feelings down to being twenty; being twenty lasted a while with me. Truth is, part of me will always be twenty.
Debbie was there too; outside the funeral home. I went to school with her; she was one of the cool kids: we never really talked.
I was looking at my feet; we all were - this was all our first funeral - we didn't know what to say.
I looked up at Debbie - she was a mess. Two friends were holding her up.
Our eyes met and locked. She was 8 meters away, but it might as well have been 8 miles. I didn't know what to say.
She howled, as if I had accused her of all this. She turned from me, sagged on her friends shoulders as they led her away. I always feel I let her down; she was left to pick up the pieces, while I just went back to work.
If I wasn't twenty I would have done something. I would have walked up to her; bridged the chasm of cliques, and hugged her, told here it wasn't her fault: if I wasn't twenty.
Elliot may have taken his life; but he had no right to take hers as well.
But like I said - he was an arsehole. You have to think of the consequences.
I have; ever since.