selfish bastard.

tonight I was thinking about Todd. and I wish I could stop thinking about todd, cause I'm not sure why it matters anymore... i guess I want to believe he was sick and it was his addiction and it was an accident and he just took too many pills....

It's been 4 months and a few days and i still vacillate between feeling as though he's been dead for years and not fully accepting that he's dead- even though his 30 year old widow and children moved away last month...

I'm lying here thinking about nothing in particular and then the mindfuck that was Todd will rear its ugly head... I really dislike that about Todd.

The reality is Todd is dead, and that's still weird to say, to write, to know... and every now and then I catch myself saying it out loud, sometimes to myself just to make it real. Tonight i was thinking about his daughter, Cassidy and when I wrote about my last memory of them together the day before he died. I wrote a line that seemed all to familiar and tonight as I reread it, I recognized the line as a line from the song "Cassidy" only I didn't realize it then, but I must have been thinking it or else I wouldn't have written it. That last day, he was standing on the sidewalk in front of our house and he was holding his daughter in the light of the sun. She was 2 weeks old with her eyes closed tight, and the morning sun was brilliant. It was a breathtaking moment until Todd opened his month and began talking about the cruel, dark world. He raised her above his head to warm her, creating a silhouette of his spindly figure that had grown remarkably gaunt in the previous weeks. In that split second I saw Todd. All the ugly parts of him previously hidden in the light were now visible in the dark- and I fucking SAW him.
The thing with Todd is that he was someone different to every person who crossed his path. Now that he's dead no one really wants to go around comparing stories and trying to get to the truth. And the truth doesn't really matter because Todd is dead.... and dead is dead. Todd was a giant mystery and always will be, but I saw him that day and it creeps me out.

The latest mindfuck is about the naming of his daughter.
Todd was a huge Grateful Dead fan and when I think about the days leading up to his death I become more and more convinced that he took his own life, he fucking checked out on his whole family. I remember the day he told me he was naming his daughter Cassidy- being the lyric whore that I am I flashed back to the song and contemplated the lyrics a bit.... I decided that while a bit odd, perhaps it was just a favorite song of his and there was nothing more to read into. Then tonight it just clicked and even though I know it doesn't matter, he's still a puzzle I've yet to piece together... the thing is I've been content with thinking he knew what he was doing a week before he died. But now, I see it was months, and i see how cruel he really was. Todd loved mindfucks and all along he was toying with everyone... dangling his little secret in front of us, begging us to catch on. How did I not see this sooner...


You don't take 8 klonopin and 8 oxy's on accident, and wait for your post partum wife to find you dead in bed on your wedding anniversary... you plan that shit.


so fuck you, todd.
fuck you.