After falling asleep in my computer chair for three hours tonight, I couldn't get back to sleep so I decided to finish (and start) wrapping my presents. Before I could start, though, I had to run out to CVS at four in the morning to buy more wrapping paper.

As I was walking to the store, I was reviewing the list of people I'd intended to buy presents for in my head and making sure I didn't need to scour the store in the hopes that there would be something for someone I'd missed. It was when I was just approaching the store that is hit me like a ton of bricks: I hadn't gotten anything for Brian.

Since there's only two people that would be reading this who might know who he is, let me explain:

Brian was my best friend, he was a 6'5" tall, big, black, artistic angel. He wasn't a furry, but if he was I imagine he'd be a lion like he was in the self portrait he did of himself

I met him right before the most difficult year of my life to date. He got me the job I have now, for six months he made sure I had food in my stomach, and he made sure there was always a roof over my head. He got me to stop cutting myself, he helped me understand myself, and I firmly believe that without him I would have ended up on the street and possibly dead.

He was also there to celebrate good times with me and made me laugh whether I wanted to or not. I couldn't count the number of times we hung out at The Village, either alone or with others.

We also spent holidays together when we couldn't go home and made sure we had a day set aside to celebrate them when we did go to our separate homes. Every year I'd do my best to give him a present on x-mas that ment even more to him then the one I'd given him the year before. The last present I got him was a signed print by his favorite artist, Boris Vallejo.

Brian passed away on November 7, 2005 of pneumonia after being sick for just a week. The last time we hung out together was Halloween of that year, you'd think that would be the difficult holiday for me, but it isn't.

It's every year in December when I realize I can't get Brian a gift; that I can't outdo myself this year or see the look of shock and joy light up his face when he unwraps what I've gotten him this year. That's when I break down so bad I almost fall to my knees and start sobbing uncontrollably.

I'd give anything to be able to buy Brian just one last x-mas present....