I can't read it, he's made his profile private...
oh google cache, I love you.
bear with me, this needs to be more than one post
"I am going to tell you a story. Are you ready to hear the story? If you're not, that's too bad, actually, you're never ready for this.
Imagine that you find yourself at a really cool party, full of incredible people who like the same things you do.
You only came here to talk about your favorite television show that got canceled, but you end up sticking around. It's a cool party.
Imagine that the reason this party even exists is because of one woman. She built the house. She built the house this party is in.
She designed the house, she was the architect, she made it possible for all you like-minded awesome people to have this party.
These people at the party, they become your friends, they become your family. They are there for you when you're down and when you're up.
The woman who built the house, now, man, she is just unreal. Smart, strong, assertive...intimidating, really. Coolest of the cool.
You talk to her sometimes, occasionally, but you'd hesitate to call her a friend. You don't hang out anywhere but at the party.
You don't call or e-mail or have any personal connection to her, not like some of the other people do. But you admire and respect her a lot."
Not sure I can grab the rest, it was all done as a comment to the original tweet, so I can't get the later tweets to come up independently.
This reminds me of my ex-husband saying to me after he dropped a friend suddenly, "I only have so much time. I need to be friends with people who are also good for my work or my career and I can't waste time on people who aren't." Now, he did not harass women, but he used other artists to help his own work all the time and he saw what he did as practical, rather than horrifying. I AM SO GLAD we got divorced.
Here's the rest, msbelle.
Every time she notices you you feel validated. You feel like you belong, like you're not some interloper who wandered in to crash the party.
You never tell her how awesome you think she is. You don't have that kind of relationship. She probably doesn't even think of you.
This goes on for eleven years.
Eleven years, you're at this party with her.
Eleven years, she is there, and you are there.
And then one day you go to the party and they tell you she's dead.
She's just...dead.
She is no longer alive.
Just like that.
At this point you don't know your grandfather will die in a few months.
At this point you don't know someone else at the party will die to bookend the year with a pair of deaths.
You never even met her.
(The party is an online community the metaphor is breaking down now sorry.)
You don't know how to feel because you don't think she would consider you a friend so how much can you possibly feel for her.
You just know that she was always there, she was an amazing person who you wish you'd known better, God you wish you'd known her better.
You channel your conflicted grief into a piece of flash fiction, but even that cannot begin to tell the real story.
You don't really know what do, you just can't believe she's gone, this is not supposed to happen.
Happy birthday, ita.
I miss you.
followed by a million hairpats in comments.
Compare and contrast with how much anyone else tweeted about it.
I just remembered that I tweeted to Colin that night, because I forgot to put his number in my phone.
I'm sorry.
It's also shitty writing. Why is it written in second person? Gross.
I guess you all have more finely tuned bullshit detectors than I do, because that doesn't set off mine.
Use of the 2nd person, he's depersonalized it. This is what other people may be feeling, he guesses.
