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Can cyberfriends die?
Can cyberfriends die?
I joke that my cyberfriends are my imaginary friends. After all, I've never met most of them, even those I interact with on a regular basis.
But yesterday I was told that one of my very first cyberfriends(a relationship started years ago, back when I was on opendiary.com and continued when we both moved to lj) took an overdose last week and died.
It's a sentence to read. And reread. And not comprehend.
Ours was not an easy friendship, but it was meaningful. We had periods of intense communication, harmony, dissonance, distance. I knew she battled darkness often....sometimes (more and more often) I found it too difficult to connect, too painful, her words would become pointed and bitter and though I 'knew better' I could not disassociate from them enough to not feel hurt, feel my dreams and hopes mocked as pollyanna-ish in the negative whirlpool of 'reality'.
I reread the sentence.
Then link to the 'room' I associate with my friend...their journal...
searching for clues, reasons, answers. Her last poem posted on her separate poetry journal is called 'Two Minds'....and in reading it...with these thoughts in my head...I started to wonder..was it about me? Probably a ridiculous,Vain and egocentric thought, I know. But this is how the mind works...when looking for an answer. More likely about janet, her life partner...or someone else 'closer' in her life, than me...a cyberfriend she'd mostly lost touch with. But the thought nags. And i reread the poem. Reading it as a suicide note because that's what i'm looking ?for. An explanation. What were you thinking/feeling? What was so Fatally discouraging??? Differences?
Enough for an overdose? No, D, that's chemical instability, extreme, moods, it's not a 'logical' reaction to a 'thought'. *sigh* But Did you mean to kill yourself? DID you leave a note?
Janet has deleted her own journal, I don't blame her, but of course I wish for more explanation....anything to shed a bit more light. And I feel useless in offering her anything in what must be a terrible time.
And then, there it is, another terrible nagging thought: It's a joke. It's a test. Another of the destructive progressions Liz was famous for. But this time- the whole identity. you've run off. You'll begin another life, another journal, another new name. You're watching us, measuring our reactions. I feel anger that this thought can exist. Anger at Liz.
These thoughts persist because of the nature of cyberspace. Land of No Bodies. Of shifting sands, masks, costumes. Land of I can't SEE. land of play by trust.
And the seed of doubt is hard and unmoving and painful in it's very existence.
I hate it for being there. And yet, in another way it is easier than real death, this doubt. Let her linger in the doubt worlds...neither here nor there and certainly never gone. I sent a note....last night...to her through lj. It felt good and right. little wordthoughts travelling in bits to some destination...that i perceive as her. towards. send. wherever. always.
I joke that my cyberfriends are my imaginary friends. After all, I've never met most of them, even those I interact with on a regular basis.
But yesterday I was told that one of my very first cyberfriends(a relationship started years ago, back when I was on opendiary.com and continued when we both moved to lj) took an overdose last week and died.
It's a sentence to read. And reread. And not comprehend.
Ours was not an easy friendship, but it was meaningful. We had periods of intense communication, harmony, dissonance, distance. I knew she battled darkness often....sometimes (more and more often) I found it too difficult to connect, too painful, her words would become pointed and bitter and though I 'knew better' I could not disassociate from them enough to not feel hurt, feel my dreams and hopes mocked as pollyanna-ish in the negative whirlpool of 'reality'.
I reread the sentence.
Then link to the 'room' I associate with my friend...their journal...
searching for clues, reasons, answers. Her last poem posted on her separate poetry journal is called 'Two Minds'....and in reading it...with these thoughts in my head...I started to wonder..was it about me? Probably a ridiculous,Vain and egocentric thought, I know. But this is how the mind works...when looking for an answer. More likely about janet, her life partner...or someone else 'closer' in her life, than me...a cyberfriend she'd mostly lost touch with. But the thought nags. And i reread the poem. Reading it as a suicide note because that's what i'm looking ?for. An explanation. What were you thinking/feeling? What was so Fatally discouraging??? Differences?
Enough for an overdose? No, D, that's chemical instability, extreme, moods, it's not a 'logical' reaction to a 'thought'. *sigh* But Did you mean to kill yourself? DID you leave a note?
Janet has deleted her own journal, I don't blame her, but of course I wish for more explanation....anything to shed a bit more light. And I feel useless in offering her anything in what must be a terrible time.
And then, there it is, another terrible nagging thought: It's a joke. It's a test. Another of the destructive progressions Liz was famous for. But this time- the whole identity. you've run off. You'll begin another life, another journal, another new name. You're watching us, measuring our reactions. I feel anger that this thought can exist. Anger at Liz.
These thoughts persist because of the nature of cyberspace. Land of No Bodies. Of shifting sands, masks, costumes. Land of I can't SEE. land of play by trust.
And the seed of doubt is hard and unmoving and painful in it's very existence.
I hate it for being there. And yet, in another way it is easier than real death, this doubt. Let her linger in the doubt worlds...neither here nor there and certainly never gone. I sent a note....last night...to her through lj. It felt good and right. little wordthoughts travelling in bits to some destination...that i perceive as her. towards. send. wherever. always.
no subject
i am sorry to hear that and you've asked the question that often enters my mind. because if somebody just 'leaves the internet', you assume they're still out there somewhere living but there's always that little bit missing. but this is different and i'm sorry, it's like having the phone number of a lost friend on yr telephone and not wanting to delete it because that means they're gone, right? you understand. all my thoughts.
xo.
no subject