Suicide effects folks in strange ways

“Logan” (not his real name) used to come over around midnight. We’d work until 3AM in the morning.

We didn’t say much. I barely got to know him.

Which is strange because I “knew” him for years. But never really knew him.

He had way more natural talent than I did. I made my claymation figures. And he’d make his. You could tell which ones were his. They were simply way better than the others.

Logan had a lot of creative talent. He always had ideas.

Whatever he worked on, it simply worked. You could also tell which part of the claymation piece he wrote. It was more extreme than the other parts.

We all had dark humor. The whole piece was seeped in it. But Logan took things farther.

All in all, we had about 8 people work on it. Logan was the most talented.

The only thing I had was persistence. I’m one of those people who you’d initially rule out. Then years later, wonder how I passed you up. Like the tortoise and the hare.

Anyways, one day I found out that Logan killed himself.

I didn’t know what to feel. I liked Logan a lot. But like I said – I barely knew him.

He didn’t say much other than every once in awhile crack a joke.

I didn’t know he lost his job. I didn’t know his girlfriend broke up with him. I heard it all later.

I’ve known several people who killed themselves. Oddly, Logan affected me the most because of all of them, I felt that Logan had the best talent.

By far.

And sometimes, I wonder if I’m carrying on his torch.

1 comment

  1. That’s the thing, we rarely really know people even when we know them. People hide a lot of dark shit. Especially men. We don’t know what to do with it. We either successfully suppress it or it bites us in the ass… Sorry about your friend. I know that’s tough.

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