If you think this is my "normal" happy-go-lucky post, turn around. Skip to the next one. It will be long.
So, I think I'm in love with Coldplay. Always have been. Been in denial. This video *points to title of this entry* is particularly fantastic. At one point in time, he's just playing the piano and singing into the microphone and the only accompaniment he has is the voices of thousands of devoted fans. Then, the spotlight catches his breath as it envelopes the microphone, dissipates, and becomes homogeneous with all the other, inconsequential air. It reminded me strongly of a friend I was once close to. And another that I would like to be closer to. Oh, well.
Coming home this weekend was the most emotional barrier that I've had to face since leaving in August. For those of you who know nothing of my home life, too bad. I'm not telling you. I've learned not to fall into that trusting trap again. I always get burned. Anyway, to regress (sort of), EVERYTHING seemed to accumulate and explode into a million pieces in such a short time. I ended up walking down my dark, rural road in the rain. ("Don't ever cry in the pouring rain.") I realized even more why I hated it here when my aunt, grandpa, and some unknown guy in a pickup drove by, asking if everything was okay. I wanted to scream, "JUST FUCKING LEAVE ME BE!!!" No one here knows how to do that. I've found myself just wishing to go back to before I housesat for my aunt. I wouldn't have quit my job. I wouldn't have disillusioned myself any further. I wouldn't have made myself scarce to those I should have realized sooner that I had cared about (cookie to those who are able to translate).
What ever happened to my "no regrets"?
I was ready to go home (to Richmond) 5 minutes after I walked through the door. How the hell did I make it through 3 days?
I'm sorry, momma. It's just not home anymore. I'm just not as strong as I once was. And I doubt I will ever, ever be again.
Stop telling me to, "just look out for me." Caring for people just isn't like that. Obviously, it's about driving myself crazy over people who wouldn't spare one synapse to do the same for me.
Thank you very much, Daniel, for uprighting my chess pieces once again. It has been the longest time since I've spent so long on my phone that it's just died at my fingertips, blinking blue as if it were gasping for one last breath. Since I've sat, freezing and teeth chattering, wrapped up in blankets on the hood of the old oldsmobile or on the tailgate of my papaw's ford f150 because I can't get cell signal inside. Since I ceased to pretend that my life doesn't exist (another cookie for anyone who can unravel the double-negative in that sentence). Thank you for a bit of perspective and forcing me to remember that people fucking suck and to stick to what you know. You're the best not-really-a-brother brother EVER!
You can never forget where you come from. If you do, it always feels like the grille of a Mack truck colliding unceremoniously with what used to be your firm sense of self. Never run away from what made you what you are today. It won't be quite so kind or courteous when you dust off the cover of your autobiography.
A firm, "I'm sorry," to all those wonderful friends (you know who you are) who, no matter what, stick to your guns in thinking I'm not having (or have been having for a few years now) a nervous breakdown. Sometimes, I feel so trite for dwelling, but often times I can't see the forest for the light of my lantern. The kerosene-soaked wick only allows me to see 2 feet in either direction and makes me a little dizzy and disoriented. How's that for irony? Perhaps all I need is a trick of mirrors to project the flame... (Yet more irony.)
A sincere, "Thank you," to those "new" friendships I've managed to obtain (and nurture) recently. You don't have the link to this site, but it doesn't matter. The sentiment is still there.
A cynical, "Fuck you," to all those friends I had the misfortune of thinking I can trust over the years. A list of names should ensue, but I'm afraid I can waste no more of my time or mental power on you.
An enraged, "STOP BEING SO FUCKING NAIVE!" to myself. Beating the old dead horse with this one.
This post is a bit heavy-hearted for my "everyday" blog. Something such as this should go into my diary (which is more private for paranoia reasons), but quite frankly, I don't give a damn. It had to be said in the most public way possible.
Well, it's been a long time since I've sat nursing my frozen fingertips with a cup of green tea in front of a monitor and keyboard, writing an entry for a solid hour. It feels really good. And inspiring.
Maybe I'm really back?
"I am tired of being your savior, and baby I'm tired of telling you why."