Helena Beat

30th of January 2021.
That was the day I’d lost my best friend. The person who had shaped me into the person I am today. A person so fierce, he walked around in the dark with only himself as the source of light.

30th of January 2021.
That was the day my phone blew up as soon as I had woken up. That was a very surreal day. Everyone somehow expected me to know, but nobody bothered to let me know what happened.

Two days before that, I’d talked to you. You had asked for $5 to pay for some random OnlyFans on Facebook. Nobody bothered to comment, or like. I commented asking what you needed it for, and you said it was to subscribe to someone’s OnlyFans account.

I’d ask you to support my start up. You willingly said yes and you told me you would always support all my endeavours.

I have now abandoned that start up.

30th of January 2021.
That was the day I stared blankly onto my phone, hoping this was one of your stupid pranks. That was the day I cried so hard, I lost track of everything to do with myself.

30th of January 2021.
That was the day I was reminded of my own mortality. That was the day that I dreaded. That was the day I wished you took me with you. That was the day I regretted not trying harder to get you off your “live fast die young” kinda lifestyle. That was the day I wished I did not introduce you to the hedonistic lifestyle of drinking and partying.

30th of January 2021.
That was the day I’d realised how private our friendship was, when I’d seen how your “friends” gathered together and aired their grievances on social media. That was the day my Instagram became private. I didn’t want anyone I had beef with to constantly check my instagram every time they thought of you. That was the day I was so mad at the world. Mad at the world for not treating you better. Mad at the world for making you so depressed, you had to drink every day. Mad at the world for not taking care of you.

30th of January 2021.
That was the day I tried to kill myself again. How could I live life without you? You were my rock. You were the sole reason I turned out the way I did. That was the day my partner went home crying, and I wasn’t. My tears had dried up and I was not able to produce more. All I had wished was that you took me with me.

I wish I was there when you choked on your back.
Nobody was there to turn you to your side.
Your “friends” were busy looking for food when this apparently happened.
I would’ve expected them to get some food delivered instead of leaving you all fucked on the bed.

They came home only to see your pale face laid bare against the bed.
The first hospital turned you down due to excessive patients getting admitted, and you didn’t get the help you deserve.
You died on your way to the second hospital.

I messaged her, threatening her that I will personally come down there and hunt her if she did not tell me what exactly happened to you. Even then, she did not tell me the full story.

I had to ask Giland to pass the phone to Angela and your parents to figure out what really happened during your cremation. Angela cried harder after she spoke to me, and I didn’t mean to. Your family is all that is left of you, the remnants of my broken youth that I desperately cling to.

Everyone you grew up with in Bali queued up to call me, to make sure I was fine. I could tell they felt so bad that I had to deal with this on top of my mental illnesses.

My life is hard. I would not wish my life on my worst enemy.
To deal with your death, is the most difficult obstacle I’ve came across yet.
I would not wish anyone the death of their V.I.P.

To this day, I still don’t know what I’ve been doing for almost four months.
I’d dissociated again.
Dissociation feels like my brain’s way of dealing with your death.
I feel like if I’d felt the full force of it, I would’ve been admitted again.
Who knows how long I would’ve been kept there.
I know how much I hate to get strapped down again.
But to be strapped down when all I want is to reach for that knife to see your face again. To be told I have to stay on earth, when all that is left of you is dust.

I can never go back to Bali.
I would never be able to mentally do it.
Every single corner reminds me of us.
I could never feel the salty air on my skin again.
It only reminds me of you.
I could never eat ayam betutu again.
Every tingle in my mouth would remind me of you.
I could never go back to my mum’s house.
For my journey to reach that place would mean I have to pass your house on the right.
I cry when I see someone walking their dog. It only reminds me of you walking your pugs with your red shorts.
I just want to feel your skin and awkward, lanky body hugging me.
I could never bring myself to sit on a motorbike anymore.
It would just remind me of your hunched back riding it, with me on the back.
I could never bring myself to drink goon anymore.
It would just remind me of the mix of cocktails you’d made with it.

I remember the first day I’d met you.
Ian was across the road, and you were on your skateboard with your emo haircut. I was playing guitar on my balcony. I thought “who is this straight guy?”
Jokes on me. Not long after, we would sit in front of my gate and you would come out to me, to the world, for the first time. I responded with a cheeky fart.

I was going to get married this year, and you were supposed to come here and be my bride of honor. We’d discussed this since we were thirteen. You were going to be that fucked up uncle that would also be my children’s godfather. We were going to grow old together. We joked we were going to lock our kids in a shed if they misbehaved.

You, Kavi and I made a promise to move to Melbourne and go through the highs and lows of uni life.

I miss you laughing at my misfortunes.
I would do anything to have you make fun of me.
I would do anything to have you barge through my door with your iPhone, taking selfies on every mirror you can see.
I would do anything to have you make fun of my mismatched foundation again.
I would do anything, to have you back.

To many people, you were just a famous figure filling in their instagram feeds.
To many more, you were just a party mate that they drank with.
To news outlets, your death was a sensation ought to be covered.
To me, you were my whole world. A person whom I based many decisions on.

I may have lost you physically, but now you live in my head.
Making me think twice when I’m about to do questionable things.
“Biiiitch, you sure?”

Yeah yeah and it’s okay
I tie my hands up to a chair so I don’t fall that way
Yeah yeah and I’m alright
I took a sip of something poison but I’ll hold on tight