Does it help anyone, knowing how I feel? It doesn’t help to talk about it. If anything this echo chamber makes me feel worse. A reminder that no matter how loudly I scream, no one can hear me. I’m alone in this pain and destined to wander looking for reprieve. Convinced I’m defective, I’ve stopped talking to people in the real world about my feelings. Any inkling of my suicidal tendencies is greeted with talk of triggers and platitudes. As if I’m sharing these feelings for their benefit. All I want is someone that doesn’t find me abhorrent. Continue reading I Wander
Category Archives: Art
Few Tile
I don’t like myself. I love who I am and believe I have an important role to play in this world. I just can’t stand to be alone anymore. The nagging desire to stop breathing coupled with guilt for feeling this way consumes most of my conscious hours. I compose chants about my worthlessness and mantras focused on getting by, one step at a time. Spurts of bravery and recklessness cause me to reach out either to existing acquaintances or new people. Success rates are low in both categories. Some individuals seem promising from time to time but most of them are lonely halves of a monogamous couple. Chatting with me must remind them what it’s like to be interesting. Continue reading Few Tile
As soon as I met him I knew it would be terrible. A person so determinedly self-involved can’t help but hurt the people around him. I even set myself up by caring about his feelings and investing in his well-being. I spent energy trying to understand and empathize with his troubles, no matter how ridiculous. He fabricates stress from situations that he’s not involved in. Classic drama seeker, I thought I could stay separate from that aspect and still be his friend. It was working until I needed someone to lean on. The opportunity to dramatize presented itself and he ran with it. Standing firm in the assertion I’m better off alone, I am so goddamn alone. Continue reading
Quarters
Currently, my greatest luxury is knowing I have enough quarters to do laundry without counting. This budget isn’t as hairline thin, compared last year, and things are finally flowing in a positive direction after over a year living in downtown Seattle. I might even luck into another year in my awesome shitty apartment. I tentatively inquired about a rent increase with a reminder of various plumbing/flooding issues from the past year. I adamantly believe I’m the best person to rent that space and am gonna try like hell to stay there. Living alone in LQA might be the only thing keeping me safe in a variety of ways. I won’t stay forever but I’d like another few years. Continue reading Quarters
Flames
Watching someone engulfed in flames and the consequent screams is painfully surreal. The monks in Tienanmen Square are much less egotistical about it. Knowing that kid actually existed leaves a taste of reality in my mouth I can’t quite wash away. Probably need some hard liquor. I didn’t start my day thinking about Memphis but it’s hard not to at this point. My walk home last night was littered with mantras about my worthlessness and the desire to stop taking up space. Yet, I’m not dedicated enough to die for it. I view my suicide as that eventual thing I’ll do if I’m desperate enough. Like agreeing to marry someone if you’re both single at forty. Continue reading Flames
The Vibe
Finally, I manage to meet someone who wants to have sex with me. After wading around in months of sludgy self-loathing, I should be excited about this. Showing patience and maturity this guy, let’s call him Jeff, managed hang out with me a few times in public without being pushy. Drinks, dinner and an Uber home after last call – he’s done all the traditional legwork. His behavior indicates a desire to continue seeing me and I appreciate the effort. The attention brightens my outlook and boosts my tenuous self esteem. Yet, we’re drunk and stoned in my apartment after half a dozen dates and I still can’t find my groove. Continue reading The Vibe
TN Quickstep
“What, huh? No, I’m fine.” Continue reading TN Quickstep
Losing My Religion
Slightly better than a functional alcoholic, I’m a stoner yogi. Turns out old hippies are thin because eating isn’t as important once you’re enlightened. Or at least lightened. There’s an IPA on tap here called Bodhizafa. Some guy told me that’s a word for monks who achieve enlightenment but then choose to come back and share their wisdom with the rest of us. My immediate response, “Lazy bastards.” Moderately surprised, the guy asks for an explanation. And I tell him the secret, “Achieving enlightenment isn’t the hard part. Staying there is the trick. I’ve experienced zen at least half a dozen times in my short life. Keeping your mind there is the hard part. Those guys are full of shit – they who cannot do, teach.” Continue reading Losing My Religion
9th Grade
Midtown seemed so far away then. I was only 13. The University area 10 miles away only felt close because my school was near there. Did they send me across town so I wouldn’t embarrass my sister at her school? Now that I think about it, that makes more sense. I wasn’t trustworthy enough for public school so they sent me to a different version of the same all-girls prep school. I don’t think they considered the Midtown element until it was a little too late. I always tended blue, that part of town sealed the deal. Often, I think they’d be happier if I was a lesbian but stayed Republican. Continue reading 9th Grade