I'M not really in the mood to write this, but I painstakingly posted these facts in German so I have to do it in English too.
In January a someone I know threw himself in front of a train and died.
I had known him for years. Originally I met him in a mental hospital, where he was undergoing alcohol detox. He had borderline personality disorder and always seemed cheerful enough, though he was always on antidepressants and, towards the end of his life, bipolar meds as well.
He was depressed because he had to have an operation. Also he had been taking that legal high mephedrone, probably in large amounts. He ended up in a mental hospital (again) and was, according to someone who really knows the meaning of the word "really psychotic". This is why I suspect this nasty drug had something to do with his death, because in all the time I'd known him he had never, ever seemed "really psychotic".
So anyway, he's dead.
He was best friends with a lesbian I know who I'll name Perky. Her and her girlfriend reminded me of Pinky and Perky. When we met Perky we were so happy. Although she had recently been discharged from hospital having had psychotic depression, she was funny, witty, lovely to be around.
Better still, she came into the life of the most damaged person I have ever met (and I've met a few broken people) ~ that is, her "Pinky".
Pinky and Perky were together for seven years. I was so happy for them because at last Pinky had found somebody who respected and loved her. Someone she could trust.
But when John died, Perky was devastated and quickly got admitted to hospital.
She used to spend three days every week with John. They were very close. Pinky, you have to understand, has multiple severe psychotic and personality disorders. She is the epitome of a "vulnerable adult". So Perky probably NEEDED somebody like John to talk to. A voice of reason. Despite the "borderline personality disorder" label, John was an intensely reasonable man. And then John killed himself.
Six months later I got a call from Pinky sounding utterly distraught. She mentioned nothing about Perky. All she wanted was a good heroin dealer. Now I know why. She scores off the same person I do, so I couldn't help her ...
... then last week the ugly truth emerged. In a fit of depression, "Perky" had swallowed enough methadone and psychiatric medication to kill an elephant.
So now poor Pinky is left alone. And I don't know what the hell is going to happen to her.
I'm so angry with Perky for having done this.
The funeral's in a couple of days' time. I'm not sure I want to go.
