I haven't written a monologue in a really long time (we're talking undergrad, but I thought I'd give it a shot.)

JUSTIN, late 20's, talks about the death of his good friend from college to a grief support group.

So, hi. My name is Justin. I'm here to talk about my friend, Randy. Randy died of a drug overdose three months ago, today. He was 27 and just a couple of weeks short in getting his master's degree in drug counseling. The irony, right?

It's strange. When he first died, I was pretty much doubled over in grief and crying all the time, you know? Now there are times when I can go an entire week or two where I'm okay, and I'm not mourning him. And when it does hit me, it's not as intense as it was...for the most part. It's just kind of more like a dull ache. I really am okay. Really, I am.

But then every once in awhile, something just hits me. Like, the other day I was driving, and this really depressing song about teenage suicide came on. And even though the song really didn't have much to do with Randy's death, the emotions overwhelmed me. Because it made me think about the fact that Randy, from what he told me about high school, had a big struggle with depression and drug issues. Which then made me think about how Randy had managed to survive his shitty teen years. He graduated from college and get through the first half of his 20's, but then couldn't survive the last half. Like the guy almost made it, almost got past all the crap and drama of growing up, almost got to thirtysomething intact, but those demons managed to claim him right before he got to the finish line. So I started crying to the point where I had trouble driving because my eyes were stinging with tears.

Sometimes I think I'm naive. I knew the guy had problems. In college, he was always looking for something to take the edge off. I remember one night in college we were supposed to try Oxycontin together- in retrospect, I'm glad that deal fell through, you know? Maybe I could have tried Oxy and been okay, but maybe I could have ended up like Randy. I don't know. I'm just trying to say that I knew the guy had problems, and I knew he was always wasted. I kept telling myself it was just a college thing. But when we hit grad school, I knew Randy was still going hard. Then it was just a twentysomething thing, and I figured he'd grow out of it, hit 30, become happy with his career, and settle down into a family. He didn't, of course, which is why he's no longer here.

I have to tell myself that sometimes. Whenever I see something that I know he'd find hilarious, or if something crazy happened to me that I know Randy would love to give me shit about, I have to remind myself that I can't call him. I still have his number on my cell. I can't bring myself to delete it.

The last time I talked to Randy was on November 20th. That's over three months. I have never gone this long without talking to Randy in the six years that I've known him. Knew him. It's strange to think that I might wind up going another forty or fifty years without ever talking to him again. He was such a great confidant....you could tell him anything. Randy was so observant, and so willing to call you out on your b.s If he thought you were being stupid, he wouldn't mince words. I felt like with him, I had someone that kept me grounded, and someone that I could be completely honest with, drop my guard entirely, and he wouldn't stop being my friend. That was the first friendship I've ever had like that. I'll never have anything like that again.

I just miss him. And I get so embarrassed that it's been three months and I'm still crying about it. Like I just want to be okay with this, and I want to stop crying for good. I want to stop feeling angry about how he left. I want to be able to just let him go. I want to go back to the guy that I was the day before Randy died, where my biggest heartache was getting turned down for a job. But I know that I can't, and I know that this takes time. It just really, really sucks.

SCENE.