My friend Merv

Dear Diary,

I  went to a birthday party. It was for a family friend, I may have mentioned him before at the funeral last week (the guy who cried and the adults told him to 'be strong' [read as: man up]). I came late, and I made a very limited appearance. I didn't know most of the people but some were fond family members. There was a big age divide, most of the people were the age of his parents, a couple of teenagers, and then a few 20 something guys (us).

I got a chance to talk to my friend, he mentioned how at one party a couple of years ago, I managed to get everyone on the dance floor, especially when the crowd was a bit dead. The story is, among a few people of that day, I was the 'ringleader' and 'hero' of the night for doing it. Personally, I didn't even notice, I think the thing that I noticed was dancing with an older woman (but not sexy-older) while she was saying 'thank you for this'. Anyway, this guy reminisced about moments we've had together which I barely noticed, I felt that it was nice that i could have an impact on his wellbeing in that way, especially considering that he's had a hard couple of years since that party.

A pretty morbid observation was that there was a picture of his dead grandmother on the mantle, not a picture of his grandmother, who happens to be now dead, but a picture of her in deceased status. That was hugely creepy. I remember one time when I found a sellotaped photo album in the shed which had pictures of my dead uncle in a similar light. I had nightmares about it for weeks.Back to my friend, lets call him Merv. Merv likes staring at the ladies, Merv gets away with some pretty sleazy lines when he talks to the ladies. Merv is also kind of depressed, but he's a fighter. As a person who is depressed from time to time, I recognise the strength in him. I hardly have been through an ounce of the shit that he's lived through, and he still keeps going. Merv writes hip hop poetry, and wrote a poem that was recited during the 1 year anniversary that I was in last week (that's why he cried). Merv recently produced a music video about how he is lonely and how he likes girls that don't see the person he is.

At a certain point this evening, Merv says to me: do you know how I can get away with the shit I say to girls? I asked him in genuine curiosity: how? Merv answered: It's because of the (wheel)chair. Elephant in the room moment!! Merv has cerebral palsy, and stated how most of the girls he meets are 'sorry' for him or treat him in an infantilised way. Merv notes the absurdity of being 24 years old and still seen as a child. The thing about children is that you can ignore them and talk to their parents, the other thing is that they don't see him as a person. They see a chair, with a person on it, but its always through the chair that they see him.

Merv has lots of battles to fight, and its not solely the fact that he has speech and mobility issues. Being disabled physically and mentally has caused him to be disabled socially. Merv tells me how at his college, they 'didn't let him continue' to study there, Merv tells me about how people tell him about what he can't do in life, and perhaps most poignantly, Merv has lost many dear friends and relatives over the past 20 months. That's the hardest battle he's ever fought. As I got home, I knew that I wanted to write about him for this blog, as my blog serves as ruminations about the day (usually I'm always thinking about myself: selfish bastard!). Thinking about Merv, and his battles, made me initially feel sorry for him. But I then realised that the last thing Merv wants is for anyone to feel sorry for him. So I'm going to not feel sorry for him. I'm not sure if sympathy is the right word, but I wish him well.

Deep down, I can relate to what Merv's darker thoughts are. I know them because I have them too. The disability I live with is hardly any obstruction to my life compared to what he faces. Merv is only a year younger than me, as an 'able bodied' person I wonder if my relationship with him would be different if he wasn't....I can barely finish the thought. I know what the answer is, and that makes me a very bad and prejudiced person. I feel bad because I think that, and perhaps more so because in his eyes, I'm a nice guy and have caused him to have a few good times.

I think one of the things I notice in my social interactions is how I am the guy who cheers everyone on, and cheers everyone up. I'm the supportive friend, the cheerleader, the guy who is at your corner. I'm a caring person, and I don't even acknowledge that fact. Anyway, now its time to get on, perhaps sleep: but I don't feel tired enough. I just hope I don't wank myself silly tonight. My penis is quite sore from over-use, I barely feel joy from most of the orgasms I've had this week. I think I'll get a hair cut tomorrow. Now I'm just thinking aloud. Stop it. No  you first, what do you mean you first: I'm the only one here!

I'm starting to imagine 'her' sitting or standing around me. A voice talking to me, I don't think that 'Mia' is a good enough name.