postscript |
on february 13th i turned 21 years old. i spent the morning with my girlfriend: 9am mass, breakfast, kiss goodbye. i got home around noon and found out that my friend sethariah had killed himself. it was sunday. he was 21.
since i heard the news, i've tried to find some fitting way to memorialize him. this piece, written for ed barrett's nonlinear narrative class at mit, was born out of a sense of frustration: after hearing about seth, i couldn't finish a train of thought, much less a coherent narrative. i found that i couldn't talk about losing seth without telling what it was like to live with him, and instead of a simple story, i found myself writing down fragments of narrative: parallel storylines in which sethariah played a part. the story is presented in the form of somewhat fragmented thoughtstreams: each passage means little without the others, but i hope that they work together to paint a picture of what seth's life and death have meant to me. he was one of the greatest friends i've known, and i miss him dearly. wherever you are, sethariah, i love you. |