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I sat in the corner with a few of his real friends, and we just watched in amusement.I guess everyone has a right to mourn and pay their respects even if we knew the reality.Jonathan was one in a million, but sometimes a lot to handle.He had a small group of friends (about five of us), and that was all he let in. We played board games, drank a little wine or whiskey from time to time, went out to bars or clubs, ordered food delivery at three in the morning from Pink Dot, played chess and made short films with a video camera when we were bored.Most of whom couldn’t give a shit about him when he was alive.One “friend” even threw a catered memorial at her Hollywood mini-mansion with about 60 of his closest “friends.” I don’t think Jonathan had talked to the hostess in well over a decade, not to mention the slew of child actors that came out to cry and tell stories.
His family, friends and millions of fans around the world were left behind to pick up the pieces of the puzzle. I haven’t written that name in over a decade, and I’ve never put this story down on paper, yet I still think about him all the time. His voicemail picked up and all I remember was me screaming into the phone; And I hung up. My friend, who called me with the news, came over, and we drove to Jonathan’s apartment.
He would play practical jokes on me and leave me insane, yet utterly brilliant messages constantly on my answering machine.