Eugene

There was an older man who was not very liked. He sits and draws cartoon characters based on his childhood abusers, often saying their names out loud. He remembers people who have passed away and calls them "bastards." He sometimes feels like crying but holds back, worried he might not like the taste of his tears. "his tears taste like bitter memories of his parents' criticism: I haven’t seen my friend Eugene for several weeks. He is in the hospital with pain no one can explain. I miss our chats in the dayroom. I especially loved seeing his face light up when we talked about his Aunt Harriet and Uncle Jack, about her favorite cookies and his fishing trips at the lake with them. Eugene never had good things to say about his parents. His father told him to masturbate to relieve pressure, and his mother told him to run from the bullies. His therapist constantly told him he wouldn’t amount to anything, which made him angry and sad. He sometimes wishes he had never been born because he feels rejected and looked down upon. I care about my friend. Sometimes we talk about poetry. I gave him my favorite pen to help him express his feelings. Poetry is important to me, and I choose to show empathy. We need to share the stories of those who cannot defend themselves. That was in 2017; he is long gone, my friend Eugene; however, I will never forget our small talk. Continue to rest in peace, my dayroom friend.