Your death is all about me.

We lost you today.

That may be true, but how we lost you probably translates more into you lost you.

To say there are no words is stupid. There are plenty of words. Most of them are WHY?

In times like these where you’d like to think you can learn something important about yourself, it’s very disappointing to learn that I’m actually a more horrible person than I thought I was.

Since news broke 5 hours ago, I’ve settled info numbness. Numbness mixed with anger. Mostly anger.

I can’t stop trolling Facebook. I keep waiting for more people to post about you, because I’m looking for it. That element of their post where, apparently, your death is all about them.

I see it all the time: People post loss of a friend, then all of their 800 closest Facebook friends have to respond, giving their condolences. I get to wallow in my anger because I assume you’re getting off on some sort of grief-based-munchausen-by-proxy.

And then I hear it. The ringing. The ringing that won’t stop until I acknowledge it. It’s pot checking up on kettle.

I know I have to stop this…my own madness. My own selfishness about losing you.

My grief isn’t more important than theirs. I don’t know that they were or weren’t that close to you. Because it doesn’t matter.

We all lost you.

We’re all mad.

We’re all grieving.