And Then Jude Hung Himself.

I know I know, this post is way too long, but please, give it a chance.

It was December 31^st of 2011; I went to a small party to celebrate the shitty year that I had made it through and to welcome a—hopefully much better—new year. I was playing pool when the Moose walked in. The Moose was the sauve-tan-handsome-guitarplaying-rockclimbing-coffeedrinking-hipsterthateveryoneloves type. He gave me a small hug—the first we ever shared in our two year friendship—he told me “it’s been too long since we last saw one another” the strange thing was, that it had only been a week and a half. He joined in on our game of pool.

I saw some really sexy girls that night. I saw some girls wearing not nearly enough clothes that night, and I saw some girls that should have worn more clothes, maybe something to cover up their “husky” thighs.

I only saw a few GOOD women that night, one being a blonde girl who I met at a church dance several years ago, I secretly call her Beatrice, she is the type that spends too much time blogging and drinking tea and listening to Ingrid Michealson, and too little time learning how to drive her over-sized truck that nobody would ever think she would be the one to drive. We greeted with a long wonderful hug, we spoke softly of how we needed to have a cake-fight and a tea-party and ditch school to get a cup of coffee and sit her basement and have a REAL conversation, as she plays Ingrid Michealson covers on her ukulele.

We paused our game of pool and all danced when The Knife started playing. Jakob, techtoniked like nobody’s business, The Turtle danced better then anybody could ever imagine. A group of girls just stood socializing—feeling as though this was un-acceptable, I took a “party popper” and popped confetti into one of the young ladies “back-side”. Matt danced like he was Charlie Brown, Noah did a sexy wall stare, Jerry stood in the middle eating several slices of pizza at the same time. It was good, nobody can say that it wasn’t, nobody can say they didn’t have a good time. Smiles were wide all around, yet for some reason there was something missing, something horribly wrong with everyone, just the way they smiled and the way they all danced and the way they looked at each other and ate.

I walked back out to see Alex and his lover playing pool. His lover, whose name escapes me, wore an incredibly sexy dress that she almost looked too good in, but for some reason upon seeing her, I could only think “she’s gonna catch a cold”. Alex wore a blue Volcom hat and a blue, grey and black three/fourths sleeve. We greeted each other, I asked him who he had come with. He pointed over to the corner and said “Uhh Jaden, Bryce, Cade, Brady, Thomas an’ uhh, Sam.” I asked him where Jude was he told me he didn’t know, I didn’t think much of it; I guess I wish I had.

We sat in a circle and talked, we had good conversation. We talked about god and religion and abortion and taxes and the army, and for Christ sakes, we talked about love. It was awfully strange talk to have at a party. Somehow, speaking about things like higher powers and the power to create and destroy, while techno and electro blared in the other room, and the laughs and the bouncing of ping-pong balls and the quiet taps of the que ball breaking just made everything seem like it was gonna be okay, like this year really might be better.

It was around eleven when I just started feeling terrible, like something was wrong, I just started seeing things and imagining things, I started remembering things. I grabbed my coat and left. I sat on the top of a man-made cliff and looked out over the great Salt Lake City, It was just hours before that I layed on the sidewalk at the top of a hill and looked out over Utah Valley. I was wrapped up in an over-sized blanket, one ear pressed to the freezing cement, the other listening to the inhales and exhales of Penelope and her cigarette, listening to her voice that seemed to beg me to take a drag say “God, I love American Spirits” it was the same voice that later—after weeks of being silent—would say “Sequoyah told me not to talk to you, I’m sorry, but don’t stop being my friend—JOEL—don’t stop being my friend.”

All of us are lonely, every one of us. The couple in the corner cuddling and the two kissing on the dance floor and the kids in the back of the car with the foggy windows. We are all alone.

I walked back inside and asked a blonde boy—who thinks he won’t ever die, and who really does believe in a god, despite what he says. (His car was backed over by Beatrice), he climbs rocks and trees and takes photos and rides bikes and draws and dreams and always seems to have a pen—if he had a BLACK pen, he handed me one and said “give it back on Tuesday. I went back to the man-made cliff and began on my left forearm. “’And in the end, everything will be okay, if it’s not okay, it’s not the end.” But for Penelope Grey, it was the end, and for Penelope Grey, nothing was even close to okay”

Something like okay, I handed the blonde boy his pen and then they all just left. The Moose, Beatrice, the blonde boy, and all their friends.

I went and danced. Jerry was on his twenty-something slice of pizza, still standing in the middle of the floor. Alex was gone, Jaden was gone, Bryce and Cade and Thomas and Sam and Brady were all gone; Jude had never showed up.

I spent the hours between two and four listening to side three of Joshua James’ build me this album, and Joshua James’ Sing Songs ep and his The Sun Is Always Brighter album, I read some of my favorite poems, including What His Father said, by Anis Mojgani and so you want to be a writer by Charles Bukowski, I read some of my favorite parts of my favorite books. I took a shower (and used soap), I shaved, I cleaned my ears, I blew my nose and cut my finger and toe nails.

I felt awful, so I set my alarm for 6:40, and went to sleep.

I woke at 6:50, I was late for my short four-hour shift at the local grocery store. I felt like shit, I blamed it on the lack of sleep but I knew it was something else there was just something in my stomach I guess, there was something gone all of a sudden. It was like a hole had formed while I slept, and all my good expectations just fell into it, every feeling and thought of this is going to be okay, everything will be okay.

Church was at one. It was around 3:05—after Sunday school—that a beautiful young girl informed me that Jude had died the night before, I looked at her and calmy and replied: “bullshit.”

I walked home and got on facebook, I looked at Judes profile. I screamed in my head as I punched the X in the top right corner. I turned the computer off and went to my room.

I passed out around six that night; I blamed it on the lack of sleep.

Monday.

I went on a hike with my family, I don’t think I said more then ten words.

My father tried to convince me to go on a ride (mountain biking), I just kept saying, “I’m not in the mood pops.” When he asked why, I told him “because I’m just not in the mood pops.”

Tuesday.

I saw Alex, he was still wearing a blue Volcom hat and a gray and black and blue three/fourths sleeve.

I saw a collage of photos of Jude, It said Jude Steven Harris October 14^th 1994- January 1^st 2012.

I saw Jaden, I couldn’t help but ask what had happened. He spoke slow, and softly, in a tone that told me that this was the truth, and that Jude really was gone, That Jude really was dead. “Jude got drunk, like fucking smashed. He was—“ a kid who either knew what had happened and was trying to cheer Jaden up, or who had no idea what had happened and greeted him in a usual way with fake sincerity. “Not good.” We kept walking, it was a few minutes before the movements of his mouth made noises that were comprehendible as words. “Jude got smashed. He was with Savannah, and they, they got in this huge fight. Savannah won’t talk about it, but, I’m guessing it was huge, because around one he called me and asked me if I wanted to go smoke. I told him that he needed to stay clean that all of us, me, him, Alex, and Bryce, and everyone needed to stay clean. New years resolution man. I went back to sleep. And then Jude hung himself. I’m never gonna see him again.” He just kind of breathed for a second, “His dad found him around 11:30 on Sunday mourning” I didn’t know what to say. We just walked together down the hall. “I’m never gonna see him again man.”

Wednesday.

The principal made an announcement over the intercom, It made me angry, it sounded like a form letter, probably because it was.

Friday.

I sat in an over crowded chapel. My hands shook like hell, I didn’t cry though, I still haven’t cried.

Men stood at the pulpit and talked about Jude, he was a funny kid. He was a happy kid, everyone was saying “nobody expected this” I feel like I should have. There was something in the way he looked at the world that should have let us all know that his heart was sick, that his soul was diseased. Jude was always cheering everyone up though, he was always putting others in front of himself. He was a SELFLESS person. When his mother started crying he would put on his stepfathers pajamas and stuff them with pillows and do a dance for her. He was a SELFLESS person.

I stared at a coffin, an arm around Jakob, he was always happy. He was into modern European electronic dance bands that used synth a lot. He cried the entire time. I just clenched a fist as tight as I could.

I had work that night, I was pulling in carts, when everything made sense to me, when I realized why Jude had done it.

In ancient Asia, Samurai performed a ritual called Seppuku, it was suicide by disembowelment. It was considered honorary. It showed a refusal to surrender, a refusal to die by the enemies sword. And that’s what Jude did, he saw the enemy coming, he saw the tanks and guns and bombs, and all he had was a rope.

He was in this labyrinth of life whose walls are built thick and high with pain and suffering, when god made us he also made a giant pile of shit for us to carry.

Jude did what I have always wanted. Jude did what I couldn’t.

Jude got out of this labyrinth, and I’m still stuck here. I’m stuck here talking to the sky like someone is listening. I’ve been thinking only of my self, I’ve been so angry at him for just leaving. Everybody has been saying that suicide is a selfish thing, and that Jude by doing it, was a selfish person, but Jude was SELFLESS. Nobody can say he wasn’t. I’ve been here thinking about how sad I am and how much I need Jude to be here, I’ve been thinking about how badly I want to go skate with him, and talk to his parrot and eat food and sleep at his house and wake up to the smell of the smell of the breakfast his mother made, which never had less then three choices for pancakes, I’ve been thinking about how badly I want to get my ass kicked by him in a game of skate and sit and watch movies and just chill, just be there. But I never once thought about how bad his life was, how lonely he was, how unhappy he was. How much he needed death. He needed death more then I needed him. I’m the selfish one, not Jude.

Maybe I’ll see him again. Maybe Jude is kickin’ it in heaven with his dad. Maybe after you die your body does just sit and rot in the ground, and that’s it; no after life. Maybe I won’t ever see Jude again, maybe I’m angry and maybe I miss Jude, but I’m HAPPY for the kid, and I hope he knows that.