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Posted: Sun Dec 30, 2007 8:04 pm
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The last time I saw him he was putting a Malboro out on his left forearm, we'd been kickin' it at his house, listein' to his old Hip-Hop vinyls. The current record spinning was the 1991 album The Low End Theory by the group "A Tribe called Quest".
It was on the third song that he told me he was going to kill himself, I asked how he planned on doin' it, he pointed at his closet and made the action of pulling his neck with a noose, crossing his eyes and sticking out his tongue. I couldn't help it, I laughed at his goofiness.
The album finished, but we'd stopped caring. He rolled one, we smoked the good leaf, and somewhere along the line we started kissing. I didn't stop him, he didn't stop me. We had been friends for so long, this just felt natural. When it was all said and done, Ron lit a smoke.
He called me a f**, told me that I was nothing but a stupid f**. I left crying, the last thing I saw of him through my tear blurred eyes was him putting his cigarette out on himself. He went through with it, hung himself later that night, around two in the morning. I guess I should have started it off with "I had a friend".
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Posted: Sun Dec 30, 2007 8:08 pm
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Posted: Sun Dec 30, 2007 8:28 pm
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Posted: Sun Dec 30, 2007 8:34 pm
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Posted: Sun Dec 30, 2007 8:38 pm
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Posted: Sun Dec 30, 2007 8:39 pm
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Posted: Sun Dec 30, 2007 8:46 pm
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