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Merry Christmas, Joe Hope this isn't depressing to anyone, but, hey, no one actually reads my diary except my love. It's a beautiful late night, the stars are glistening only as they do when it's about to snow, and I'm thinking of my friend Joe, who killed himself last year. I'm not depressed at all, just wanting to talk to him. My friend Bob talks to the stars a lot, especially since Joe died. How ya doing, Joe? "Purple Rain" was on tv tonight, I thought of you. Heard "Lets' Go Crazy" in the hair salon tonight, too, so I guess you were on my mind. Or in my mind. I'll still never get why you loved Prince/"The Artist" so much. I sort of understood the purple thing, what with metaphysical stuff and purple being an empowering color. I wish I could have done more for you. I wish I had known how much you needed help. I never would have let that bitch "Career Counselor" Sharon talk to you that way if I had known where you were in your head. I would have kicked Yvette and Teresa's asses, too. I knew something was wrong that night that you called me at 1.00 am and told me over and over what a good person i was. I called Bob right after you hung up and asked him if you could possibly be drunk. Of course, we couldn't imagine that you were. You hadn't had a drink in 11 years! And then, about two weeks later, you told Bob and I that you had started drinking again, but that it was "under control" and you were just telling us in case we heard people talking about seeing you having a drink in a restaurant or something. I acted like it was all fine, but after we walked out of your office, I grabbed Bob and said, "See! I KNEW he was drunk when he called me that night!" My blood was chilled to the bone, I felt sick. I knew something was wrong, Joe. But I didn't do anything about it. You called me two days before you died. I was really sick, with an awful flu, and I was apologizing for missing work. You told me over and over that it was fine, that it was no big deal. I'm glad you didn't call me the night you died. Thank you for not calling me. I'm glad my last conversation with you was lucid and sober, and that I didn't have to try to find your drunk, suicidal ass...or worse, see you get shot and killed. Thanks for sparing me that. I hope you are ok now. I hope you are happy, truly. I don't know if I believe in afterlife, but I hope there is one for you. I know if you are somewhere, you are happy that I have a true love. You'll be at my wedding, I'll make some symbol for you, somehow. Love and miss you, Joe Peace and Light Miss These?
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