Very much like you, I’m stubborn. Maybe we’re stubborn in different ways. Either way.
I thought of you tonight. It was the first time in a long time that ive thought of you. I even searched your name on messenger,nothing recent.
For all I know , those messages go back 10-15 years… maybe I’d smile? Maybe I’d cry?
Idk. I don’t even want to.
Know, that is.
Can I start over, by saying how grateful I am that your alive??
Maybe I’m a hypocrite. But never in bad form or intentionally. I love you.
You’re a piece to my puzzle. Actually, a missing piece. How it’s been so long just doesn’t even make sense to me.
We werebest friends for years…
My longest friend.
I wish you were here to see, and hear SO MANY THINGS .
I love you. I miss you col.
Our babies have grown, my kids aren’t any longer Tiny infants and toddlers. We are no longer each other’s best friends.
And it’s my fault for being so weak.
I’m sorry that I was unsure of who to really trust with what just yet.*
I’m sorry you were backed into a corner.
I’m sorry that you blame me.
Overall I’m just so sorry for not being who you needed me to be, the best friend you needed in me.
I hope you are on top of the world with those boys.
Girls- both of you . I love and miss y’all more than I could show ❤️
ALL my love, and BEST wishes. From a blog you may never see . xoxo
***That my friends alone is a lesson – every person you trust – can and should ONLY be trusted with the type of ishhh they can be trusted with – otherwise- you literally cannot trust them. One per genera .
10:56pm Sitting outside on my “stoop” aka … farmers… porch 🤣😂 – the air changes… the breeze feels stuffy, and all of a sudden it’s not.
I think of you…
I can’t tell you exactly why- it was just like one second you were there, the next you weren’t.
At first an indoor affair came to mind, something that happened in my adult years. Seconds later, a line or 2 into the song, you come to mind. Not the last version of you I saw. The high school, awkward, 8th grade you. Maybe this was a song we listened to together with friends or maybe on one of our blunt cruises..
Next up @ a little past 11pm, still on the same stoop..
His government, was Cory, but as of late, he went by Versaje, with a J cuz he can’t afford it. ;] His words, not mine. VersaJe was such a fitting name for him if that makes any sense. It suited him so well. We have been friends since around the 8th grade, and he was always GUCCI. That is legit. So the fact that now, at 31 years old, he took on the name, and was, VersaJe… it’s just, perfect.
If you knew him, you loved him. I loved him. I loved every bit of our friendship. As we got older, it was one of the realest, just like him, just like me. We were always raw, real, bold, and just, THE MOST, with each other. Always. We did the most. He was one of my biggest fans, someone who supported me through and through, and I him.
Something happened though, we didn’t keep in touch. We didn’t answer our phones as often, or with as much excitement as we usually did. We didn’t check-in/up on each other at random times anymore. We just lost touch, we stopped blowing up each other’s phone’s with messages, comments, facetime calls, we just stopped. I’m not sure really, I do not understand why, but I am beginning to unearth the lessons that my beloved friend has taught me.
I’ve lost a lot of people lately, too many in fact. So I am used to hearing the cliches that come with loss. This one though, is starting to hit me differently, it’s starting to make more sense to me, in a different way. They say, something along the lines of people being lessons… it’s put in many different ways. Different versions… but the one I’ve come to know, is this next one.
That is a big pill to swallow. It makes sense though.
Well, I mean, I guess.
Right now though, today, I can say with certainty, that I’d trade in all the lessons I’ve learned from and throughout our friendship, to have Cory here today. There are plenty of other people I can learn lessons from. Why my people? Why so many of my people? Why so many of the good ones?
Cory was a good one. Always. I won’t say that he didn’t have a mean bone in his body, because he did, but you would never know it, unless of course you crossed him or someone he loved.
Our friendship began in Rockland, circa 2002 at ‘party centraL’ ( aka at the Westberg’s house ). We were ” The Crew”, ” The shadies”, CCCCCSQUARED <3 . That is ALL for another story, this one is strictly Cor.
He was, if not THE first, than one of the first boys I ever really kissed. It happened in the ditch. That night my friends and I had gone to the teen center and came back with Cory, Ryan & Chris. We thought we were SO cool. That was the beginning of our friendship, Cory’s and mine.
It’s crazy when I think about it, because sooo much has happened in the last 10 years alone, nevermind the last 20+, and throughout it all, all the addictions, the drama, the losses, the people, the places and the things, the growing we both did and did not do, we still remained friends, CLOSE friends, thoughout all of these years. Not all of us have kept in touch, but all of us have kept in touch with Cory.
Cory was the common denominator in my life. He was always there.
One of Cory’s passions was planning events and bringing the people he loved together. He was always a comedian, and could make anyone laugh with his charismatic wit.
I am grateful to Cory for so many things, so many things that I cannot even begin to list them here. I am the most grateful for the fact that Cory always loved me, no matter what, we could always talk to each other about our shit without judgement or fear, and with PLENTY of jokes — SELFISHHH <3 .
As I try to write about my dear friend, I’m listening to his PodCast on Anchor. I’m struggling a bit through the sadness, so for now, I’ll end here. Im so grateful to be able to hear his voice, and some of his thoughts on ANCHOR- Go listen now – his name is Versaje on Anchor- That’s V-E-R-S-A-J—E J BEFORE THE E CUZ HE CAN’T AFFORD IT!
Rest in the sweetest Peace My Dear Friend Cory Until We Meet Again Angel <3
This story was written by a mom in 2019, and never published due to fear of anonymity. Here is The Story through her eyes…
My best friends diagnosis…
I am a recovering drug addict. I’ve been Sober for 4 years off hard drugs. I have an amazing, caring,kind & understanding fiancé & 5 amazing children, all of them have helped shape me, and helped me get to where I am today. This is not my story, but it is my summed up, brief version of a story I played a role in.
I’ve had this friend since we were… kids , we graduated the same year, had kids around the same time, each time. Unfortunately, I followed a path that my friend knew was no good. She tried to put in her 2 cents, but back then, it didn’t matter to me. So as much as she loved me, and my child(ren) , she had to step back and live and focus on her own life in her own ways, finding, fixing , and building her own paths. She still saw me for who I truly was though. No matter how much time had passed, or where we were.
A relationship here, A Marriage there, a lost cause here & there, she was a young, single mother, divorced homeowner with an even younger boyfriend (cougar alert!!) , good jobs, growing companies, and her young growing daughter. When she found that younger boyfriend, she was in a tough place , a place of in between, and she fell so easily in love , as he was there and helped her pick up all the pieces leftover by all the damage that was caused before him.
My friend was happy. Happy in her home, with her daughter & her young fiancé. Happy with nature, love and light. She worked, he worked, the child went to school. She babysat her friends kids on the side, had all the friends and family in the world… but she felt there was something still missing… a void of sorts….
And then he came back.
This other younger boy she loved all through grade school made a reappearance in her life, he was in active addiction, and homeless, and she wanted to fix him, she wanted to help. She wanted to do anything to get him out of his hell. He stunk like b.o, had tracks on his arms, his neck, and picks on his face, ‘that’ was always in his lap. His family had hurt him, he too hurt them back… and he’d cry in her arms shedding all the tears and cover up all of his truths… with the lies he called truths… but he kept his secrets in his eyes… and his eyes locked on hers.. but all she saw was pain, hurt, and love.
So she’d take him in, under her wing, where he would be safe from all the other addicts on the streets , safe from his family, safe from pain, safe with her, she was his safety.. she thought “safe” was what they were…. Boy was she so wrong…
They became best friends, super close .. (that was his manipulation and that’s not even close to as far as it goes). So she fell back in love, and she fell HARD. So hard for him that no one mattered besides him & her daughter. She realized HE was the piece that had all along been missing. She cut ties, burnt bridges and went to bat for this boy, doing everything in her power to help him to stay clean and sober. Meanwhile she had just built her empire up. She had JUST gotten to where she needed to be, but again… there was a piece she always felt was missing…
This went on and on for years and years, burning bridges together left and right, until all that she could saw… was him, that he was the only one there. He was the only one left, the only one she wanted. It made her feel so special. She was willing to lose everyone else, besides him & her daughter. She just did not care. If you didn’t like him, you were dead to her. There was nothing and no one left for them in this city.
So he took her away. He took her far, far away, miles and miles, hours and hours, from her family and friends… burnt bridges or not… he got her alone, and it is exactly where she wanted to be, and explicitly where he wanted her.
They moved all the way across the Country, so far that no one would know, of the girl she once was, the girl who had everything and still was not where she wanted to go. This girl had a connection with this boy from grade school, a connection he made her believe was so deep, that she could, not only feel his pain, his happiness, his worry, his wants, his needs… but she could see it through his eyes. She could feel everything he put off to her, everything she wanted to see, everything she wanted to feel. He was the one, and that’s what she saw, felt, and truly, with every piece of her, wanted.
( The feelings? It’s called being an empath, but at the time, he told her it was theirs, all and only theirs. It was a connection no one else would see, or believe, but her. She was no longer grounded , although she believed she was…she would figure it all out in later years.)
They struggled, but they were happy. On Facebook, you could see it, but I quickly came to see, that their life was a mirage of happy stories and images. Happy as they were, they went ahead and planned for a baby. 9 months of jumping around from hotel to hotel, camper to camper, they had this super unique, intensely beautiful little girl, daddy’s girl, his “first” baby. So special, but he still didn’t see it.
She found pictures and texts, hidden profiles and links, videos, & images that her mind and eyes could never erase. She had messages from some someone’s he had no business seeing. She loved and knew this boy so much, so well, yet there in front of her unfolds a story of a boy she does not, and refuses to know.
Time went on, years went by, more babies were had. He proclaimed his love and promised to forever change. She tried to believe him, she loved him and he loved her, he made her feel things she had never felt, experiences she’d never endured.The connection. The love. True love on a whole other level. So deep a connection, most would call it a story.
My friend came home, family of 6 in tow, including her man, the boy.. the one who she just could not let go or walk away from.
Some sat waiting, patiently so.. some ran to her with opened arms & closed mouths… afraid that when they speak… she may go.
And then there was me…
I am an addict in recovery. And I understand. I obviously was not the only one who understood, No, but I was the only one who was truly outside of the box for all of those years. Offering a judgement free zone, a shoulder, a hand, I would be there for whatever she needed. I felt safe with her, and she felt safe with me, we could exchange secrets so easily.
There was oh so much more. So much more than anyone, even her, could ever envisage or foresee.
Time went by, and my friend got very sick. In the hospital for months kind of sick. Still, no doctors had answers for what was going on; everything came back negative, yet some of her organs were not functioning correctly, or slowly shutting down. She somehow got better and returned to her home, only to find that her dude was gone, with no word of why.
Hospitals, Police stations, Jails, institutions, and morgues. Those are the places we first decided to call. She found no information, no trails left behind… he would be gone for over a weeks worth of time.
He came home a drunk. That was new. That was fun. He was hiding his alcohol in every cabinet, every drawer, in old coats hanging in the closets, and old boots in the back, and there was also the ones he would litter all along the side of the road… creating a trail.. a path, of destruction, that would lead straight to her front door. My friend saw this and was scared, so she sent the kids off to their grandparents house to stay a few weeks, while she stood by his side and sobered him up, got him back on his feet, and back to his job.
Him having a job working outside , or maybe even just working at all… did not suit him well. Not while he was trying to keep his demons at bay, and what demons were they? What else was he hiding? I had to think that there was something more. He hid his secrets at work, covered up all of his lies under shingles, wood, concrete , tiles & dirt.. hammering, drilling, cutting, shaping and pasting away at his defeat. A 6 pack with the guys, led to counting pennies for a fix, hiding some money and even worse, his most horrible slip.
I don’t know when it happened, maybe he knew it all along, but when this boy found Meth, he took off, and he was gone.
Again, my friend detoxed him, this time much worse, before he came home, the kids were at Disney with family & friends, she locked herself and her soul mate in their home.. and set off on one of the hardest journeys she would ever know. If your feeling the goosebumps and chills I’m feeling right now, imagine the way she felt watching him come down? I couldn’t even begin to make any sense of that, even if today I tried.
When the kids came home, daddy was good, he felt all better, and the holes in his skin were almost healed. My friend had spent a week watching her dude torture himself, hallucinations and bugs, and she sat by his side praying, pleading, holding him, just hoping and wishing he was done.
But it wasn’t done with him…. and He just wasn’t done…
He’s been gone since the last time he left a long time ago, doing things we could never have imagined, things you would not dare to make up, things I cannot even speak of so publicly.
Still, today, my friend is picking up the pieces from the tornado he caused, doctors appointments, house hunting, working her ass off, all the while after finding out that he gave her a manageable disease. A disease that a decade ago put a death sentence on every life it touched. My friend has never done hard drugs in her life. Growing up she would drink, smoke weed, and be crazy, but NEVER dared taking drugs that would make her spacey. Nothing hard.
. Yes she’s done some crazy ass things, but NEVER as crazy as the things he introduced into her life. It takes 2 to tango they say… yes it’s mostly true, but my friends one mistake was loving someone so hard, believing that they had it in them to be good, when she looked at him, she SAW the good, he just couldn’t pull himself out of his addiction, he did not, does not, and will not ever want to.
I am so grateful that I am who I am, who I’ve become, and where I am today. I’m grateful that I am present for those who need me. Not only for my kids and family, but for my best friend, who has become more of a sister to me really, and my little nieces and nephews. My friends entire family is my family, and my family is hers, and I cannot explain how much I Love that my friend has her people again, and has the support system she needs.
I’ve helped search rivers, camp sites, forests, empty abandoned cars, social media apps, I’ve stared down tree limbs, looking to see if he was there… I’ve driven through the places I’ve been when I was active that I thought I’d never go again. I’ve driven all hours of the day and night looking into places , afraid of finding him. Mostly afraid of finding him in some type of condition … the situations he has put himself in, all lead to him being in some type of bad condition that I’m sure I would not want to see. Though I would do anything to help my friend. I was so scared that I was going to find him dead. By his own hands. I was so scared for my best friend.
My friend has been through hell and back for the boy she loves, the boy she thought was on his way to being a man, the boy she saw as strong, the boy she created a family with.
We have a triangle, me and my 2 best friends, and it’s our support beams. It’s where we lean when we do not feel strong enough to carry the weights we hold alone. I’ve had lots of best friends and even more friends… and I’ve never had a friendship with 2 other amazing women who have conquered and overcame so much a friendship that is so strong, so real & so true.
3’s a crowd.. always a 3rd wheel, double up, they never work… I’ve dealt with it all, but these are my people. No diagnosis, no man or boys, girls or women, no doctor or nurse or medication , could ever break the bond I have/ had with my 2 girls.
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