This is Mandy. Today I learned that she died from an overdose. I don’t know what her drug of choice was. I think she took anything she could get her hands on. I met her at the rehab place where I went every week to visit a loved one.
She was a very wounded girl who I wanted to save, but you can’t save people. That’s supposed to be obvious.
She was around 23, anorexic, miserable, desperate and defiant. She manipulated everyone around her. Even me. I didn’t really mind it, though. I wanted to help. I thought she just needed love and support. Everyone at the rehab place expected her to end up dead, such was her commitment to hurting herself.
One day after she left L.A., I erased her text messages, thinking they took too much room in my phone. I kept one though, and I don’t know why. It says: “Thanks, I had fun today.”
Poor little Mandy. Underneath the tattoos and bravado, she was an innocent child who someone must have damaged long ago.
She used to put her head down to show me her blond roots, which she hated. I always responded by showing her my own roots, the gray ones. It was like an alien greeting and it made us laugh.
Other people are reeling from losses today, and my heart aches for them, but it aches most for Mandy.
Send her a prayer to the god of your understanding.