January 1 1996

To whom ever is reading this,

Angel went first three days before Halloween. He was the foundation our family stood on. For we were a family, Angel, Collins, Maureen, Joanne, Mimi, Roger, me, even Benny. But without Angel, we slowly, one by one, fell apart.

Maureen left, next, taking off with another girl she picked up only two weeks after she and Joanne made up. Joanne knew this would happen, but none of us thought it would be so soon. But that's Maureen for you. No one's heard from her since. We don't know if she's dead or alive.

Three months later, Collins followed Angel. We honestly all knew he would follow Angel before July. He lost his will to live.

Soon Joanne drifted away, Maureen was gone, and she really didn't want the reminders we held of her. She gradually withdrew and last I heard was married to another lawyer and fighting for justice one case at a time.

Mimi held on for a year, but in the end, AIDS got her, like everyone. Roger was with her till the end, holding her hand as she slipped away.

Benny was murdered for his pocket change on his way to see Roger two days after Mimi's funeral. He may have been my least favorite but I thought he would outlast the rest of us. He left half of his money to Roger and myself and the deed to the building. He liked us more than I realized. He never really betrayed us.

Roger and I, we survived for a time, just the two of us. But Roger was living on borrowed time. He held on for five years. I was there, without my camera, without out anything to block the moment, and held him in my arms as he shook. I was there when he fell asleep one last time. I whispered my love for him as he drifted to sleep and then watched as his lungs stopped breathing and his heart flat lined. The doctor said I sat there for seven hours afterwards in total silence just staring at Roger's body. I don't really remember much. I remember I woke up in our bed. I don't know how I got home. Everyone else is gone.

I lay there for God knows how long, trying my hardest to believe Roger was just behind me, sleeping. I rolled over and cried into his pillow. After that, I stopped living.

Now I write this out on paper. I thought there should be one account of the eight people who loved and were lost to the bitter life of Bohemia. I never told Roger, but one night, we wanted to be with each other so urgently that we didn't use protection. Two months before he died, I tested positive. I couldn't let him live with that guilt so I kept it secret. Never took any medicine. I was the one to survive, but I'm in the hospital again, only this time for me. I've been in the hospital a total of six times. Once for Angel, Collins, Mimi, my father, and Roger, but now its for me. I have my camera and watch my images of us as a family before everything went to shit. I know, I don't know how, but I know I will die tonight. Except there will be no one to hold me as my body decays with me in it. No one to whisper comfort to me. No one to watch me die. So much for surviving.

The doctor just came in. He looked at me and shook his head. Before he could say anything, I told him I knew. He nodded and walked off, not really caring. To everyone else, I'm just another insignificant dying person.

I don't know who will plan the funeral. I called up my mom, but she passed away a year ago. My sister never called me. She didn't want anything to do with her 'lost' brother.

I have to finish soon because the end is coming and its harder and harder to write or see the page in front of me. Survival is not living. Oh well.

La Vie Bohemia,

Mark Cohen, the last of the Bohemians