RVMC (†24.4.2016)
Back in Feb-Mar 2011--shortly after joining Tumblr--I stumbled upon a violet-kitty via a tag search. The violet-kitty (R. IRL) openly discussed the very intimate details of their life--their ”personal shit” as it was tagged. After reading one of the posts I sent R. a message, from which grew a very close bond. In the subsequent 5 years we corresponded in some form every other day. We have even been fortunate enough to meet IRL three times, despite living in different countries--a ditch apart.
On 18th April a confluence of Chaos and Circumstances with a capital C combined to force R. to attempt to end their life. The attempt left R. comatose and on life support. In this state R. stayed while tests were performed to determine the extent of the damage to R’s brain. Unfortunately it was too extensive. Shortly after the life support was turned off. R died a few hours later in the early hours of 24th April (GMT+12).
R’s death has left behind a gaping hole. With R. though, I think is more appropriate to call it a void given R’s love of nihilism. The void cannot be filled, but one must come to terms with it. This post is an attempt to do just that. It seems an appropriate place to do it too given it’s where it all started.
Back in 2011 when we first met, we were both going through similar difficulties, but from opposite sides of the fence. R was being crushed in a failing relationship and was trying to stand their ground. I, on the other hand, was being shoved away from someone whom I become attached. Reading R’s “personal shit”, which detailed the failing relationship, helped me deal with my own situation. I in turn, helped R. The contrasting but complementary experiences and approaches is one of the elements that lead us to be such close friends. R’s openness and me keeping my private feelings, thoughts and feelings close to my chest is another good example. There is no way in hell I would have disclosed what I’m writing here when I first met R. Being more open is definitely one lasting legacy R. will leave on my life.
R. was someone that loves things with an absolute passion. Whenever R would come across something that exited them, they would be shared widely and enthusiastically. The same goes with things that R. would detest. I up to that point had never come across someone would acted with such passion. Here again we have contrasting approaches to life. I tend to quell such passionate urges, seeing them when I first me R. as dangerous. Instead I tend to revert to rational thought. R taught me that it’s okay to let one’s passions guide you. I think some of my rational approach might have rubbed off on R. too, whether for the better or the worse I don’t know. Behind the differing approaches I turned out that we liked and were captivated by a lot of the same stuff.
Both R. and I shared problems with social anxiety. R’s problems were more transient, mine were omnipresent. When R’s mood was up, social anxiety would virtually disappear. It was the depression that brought it out more than anything. When depressed, R. would go into internet lock-down, privatizing or deleting large chunks of their online presence. At times, whole blogs, twitter and Facebook accounts have been erased. I’ve never had an urge strong enough to do such a thing, but I can certainly understand why someone would do so. That depth of mutual understanding made it easier for us be be open with each other and to connect. It’s much easier to dismiss things like being too anxious to navigate public transport (albeit in a foreign city), which occurred to R. when we first planned to meet IRL while she was in the country. Fortunately for us, the anxiety died down enough meet a few days later on the 19th Feb 2013. We talked for about four hours. A few months later, in April-May 2013, I visited R. in Wellington, staying for a week. R showed me around town: visiting Te Papa (R. loved museums); renting a car and visiting the obligatory sights, as well as the more rosy bunkers; and hired bikes, doing a little circuit around the Miramar peninsula. I also got to meet some of R’s friends. R. got to meet one my friends when I hopped across the ditch for the second time in Dec 2014-Jan 2015--the last time I saw R in person. The second visit was a bit mixed. R. was in a dark place and we didn’t get much time to talk. We did get to visit two museums, but the darkness was too much to celebrate NYE together. I’m sure R. would have liked to, should the Chaos have allowed.
One cannot talk about R. in depth without talking about the Chaos. Very early on I identified a need to depersonalize R’s mental heath problems--to separate R from the illness and to make it easier to talk about. The name that stuck was Chaos. Chaos lived in a jar and liked escaping, causing havoc and disrupting up peoples’ lives. Chaos was an absolute menace. Chaos was a major factor why R. dropped out of school, had difficulty holding a job and maintaining friendships. Chaos wasn’t all negative though. When it was contained in the jar, it was an amazing source of enthusiasm and passion--and one would say love. Chaos was one those things that drew people towards R in the good times, as well as the bad. R. spent an inordinate amount of time and energy trying to keep Chaos contained in the jar, much more than many people would even be able to comprehend. It was amazing to witness how hard R. fought to contain it. R also helped others to with their own battles. I cannot recount the number of times I have witnessed R help others. R always seemed to know what to say. She was a great friend to have when you were in need of support.
Apart from the three brief IRL meetings, the vast majority of our interaction was text based--Tumblr, FB, email, Twitter. We never phoned or video-chatted. In a strange way having that internet-based friendship worked extremely well. R’s sharing of personal shit and some very long emails from me kept each other up-to-date and involved in each others’ lives. Twitter also helped to facilitate things, by allowing us to spontaneously share an experience in real time. FB did this a bit too. Twitter feels a lot more private than FB though. The friendship between us would have been much different had we lived in the same location. That in itself is one of the greater laments. This was a lament shared by R too.
I don’t think R and I would have met hadn’t it been for the internet. And, here I don’t mean given our two different geographic locations. The people I hung-out with and the people R did are very different. There are a group of R’s friends, whom I wouldn’t want to associate with even now. But at the same time, my net has been widened greatly to include some fantastic people. I think R was drawn towards me because I was from a different group too. I think part of that was because my outsider perspective may have allowed R to escape a number of toxic friendships or at least see them as being problematic.
One cannot fill the void left behind when someone close dies. There will never be another R. One carries the void around for as long as the memories survive. The void needn’t be a burden. R’s death almost coincided with my birthday. With each birthday to come I can view it as an opportunity to morn or I can see it as an opportunity to remember an incredible friend, someone that has left a positive mark on my life and many others. The void can be used as a source of strength too. For me the void is a reminder of the importance of being open with other people--sharing one’s joys, embarrassments and struggles. It’s about the importance of sharing one’s passions and letting those with similar tastes gravitate towards you.
In the aftermath of R’s death one thing that gnaws at me the most, which is epitomized by this quote:
If you love someone, let them know. One of the things I’ll never regret is how many times I told her I loved her.
It gnaws at me because I never did, not explicitly anyway. I have an extremely poor record of telling people that I love them and how much the mean to me. That’s not just a poor record with R, but in general--not with close friends, not with family. That must change. All I have to do is think of R for motivation.
I don’t think I could finish without mention R’s obscure sense of humour. That’s one of the things I will miss the most. R had this uncanny fascination with the obscure and absurd--from the depths of Ali Express to the most bizarrely morbid. R’s wit was incredibly quick too. The playfulness was uncanny.
Above all what R. showed me is what a good friend is like.














