If there’s any catharsis in sharing a story, here goes.
She was doing some contract work in Amsterdam (no, not working a door, you cretins). A six week web development thing. Her and her co-worker/roommate bought some coke off the street. Wasn’t coke. Was heroin. Killed them both. We used to Skype every Sunday. That Sunday she wouldn’t answer. Got the call from her mother the next day. The Monday. We were on and off for six years. My life has never been the same.
What’s tough is the comparison thing. Every girl I date I end up comparing to someone who didn’t actually exist. Camille and I had a pretty terrible relationship, hence the on and off thing. But I guess the best way to get great is to get good and then get dead. I’m free to imagine everything we could have been rather than dealing with what we really were. Like I said above, you never get over it. A loss just becomes part of who you are.
