So the word came in last night that an old on-line buddy of mine committed suicide.

This isn’t meant to be a woe-is-me-fest–I only knew her through on-line gaming, and the chunk of time when we were rubbing virtual elbows daily is a good five years gone. We stayed only vaguely in touch, and she withdrew from contact through what was (in hindsight) depression, so I saw even less of her in the last few months than usual.

Generally when we mourn people, I think we mourn for the chunk of our own lives that’s gone. Since there really isn’t one in this case–that part of my life has been over for years–about all I could do was say “Shit. Shit. Shit.” and reach for the whiskey. It’s not even grief, just…fuck, what a waste.

So I snarled at the printer for awhile, which ran out of ink in self-defense, and went to bed. Kevin is a prince, and very good at saying the right things at the right time* or not saying anything at all at the right time, which also counts.

And I wake up and…well, here we are.

Her friends and family, who DID just have a large part of their life ripped away, have my utmost sympathy, which probably doesn’t do a helluva lot of good. Still, they say that it’s better to say something stupid at this point than not to say anything at all.

This is sort of a pointless post, I realize, particularly since I’m not naming names or linking links out of respect for the family’s privacy, but I guess I just didn’t want this to go unnoticed. Sometimes you just wanna go “Pay attention, world! Somebody good died!”

*He claims that this is from years of experience at saying the wrong things. There is probably a case to be made there. Regardless, I’m glad he was there.

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