Journaling 9/19/15 TMI

Crazy day, going to gig 2.5 I’ll probably just be getting out of work when you get up. 20 hr. Work day woohoo!
I rode right to Icarus from AMDA and got to work set up brand new chain motors including some electrical work which was great. As much as they frustrate me sometimes I really love them, I feel like I’m part of some highly dysfunctional family, but a family none the less. On my way now to Topenga to work on some roof, hopefully done before sunrise because it’s reflective and we’ll absolutely roast. Should be fine, it was nice doing the electrical work today, really chilled me out. I’m typically on a pretty even keel, a real cool customer, most high stress situations don’t stress me out, at all. I’m usually laughing and having a good time despite the anxiety everyone else is feeling. I’m sensitive about art and the things I am passionate about, but I can handle criticism and feedback and the way of things. When it comes to matters of the heart however it’s a struggle, because it’s what I most care about, I’m most vulnerable and most sensitive. I’m good at being vulnerable, and sensitive and raw, I’m ok with openly crying, I’m trying to show myself more, in performance as well as life. But when it comes to matters of the heart I burn, I haven’t been to this place in awhile, I haven’t wanted to be here, for years, I had grown comfortable with the fact that my lifestyle and career and personality weren’t suited for a long term romantic partner. There are self defense mechanisms I built up over the years out of necessity, or fear or habit. And when Michael feels unsafe or uncomfortable or really anything that’s personally upsetting the Tiger comes out, and I don’t show him to people because he’s ferocious and angry and quite frankly mean. He’s always accompanied by a torrent of emotion. By the end I feel
I’ve just always been on my own, growing up I was the odd one out, sometimes I feel like I’m an after thought to my family, I get along with my parents probably better than anyone. But they wouldn’t be visiting me if Gemma weren’t down the block. Of my siblings I’m closest with Gemma but she hasn’t treated me well since the fire, and as much as I want a relationship with Gemma and she feigns interest every now and again, largely I’m an annoyance and we don’t talk unless one of us needs something or if she wants to talk. She does help me out every so often, but begrudgingly and I don’t hear the end of it. Once in a blue moon we have a good conversation. She was the one that wanted me to move to LA in the first place. I do like it here, but then I wonder where else I might go. Since the fire I haven’t been in once place for more than a year. Even before then I never held down a job longer than a year, i was never fired I just needed change, constantly. Every so often I feel the need to run away again, and I’m afraid I’ll never be able to run far enough, or that I really will and no one will ever hear from me again.  

I don’t know why I’m telling you this, I want you, I love you very dearly, but I’m a wild animal, and I want to be your house cat, which goes against my very nature and I rage inside at the thought of it and at the agony that I’ll never let myself feel safe. You put me at ease and the fact that you calm me and love me and accept me confounds me so it hurts. It’s wonderful. And yet 
Raining now, hanging 40′ of truss over a 30′ opening it’s a downpour. Everyone is soaked the truss is slippery, it’s 3am been up since 7.
About to board a train to go work on Alone, going to be late. But it should be fine. I’m a little ticked off by what you said and you didn’t mean anything by it which makes it more frustrating. I fee like I’m in a lose lose situation. A can’t live with them, can’t live without them type of deal. I think our humor is on point and I think we’re really attracted to one another physically, intellectually and emotionally. I wonder too if there is not also a spiritual connection, then again I’m not sure how much stock you put into spirituality. Anyhow I feel like in a general sense we’re a great fit but when you get down to it there is a lot of nitty gritty things that irritate me. Perhaps I am not so vocal or perhaps at times I give in to what you want, need or envision because to me it’s worth it to sacrifice these things. And I still feel that way. I just feel so intensely, I wish I didn’t love you, this would all be a hell of a lot easier, I could forget about you, which wouldn’t really ever happen obviously, but I want to, I want to run away so badly, but I can’t because I care about you too much. This isn’t going to go well, I can see that, and it’s my own fault we’re even in this situation because I could have just never told you I loved you, that I trust you, that I think we’ve got a shot, that I want to answer this question. Because I think it could be really lovely, I think it could be something really sweet and special and wonderful. I still think that. But maybe I’m just a dreamer, and maybe I’m a hopeless romantic. And so maybe this is stupid and maybe it’s foolish to believe me. LA feels stale now because I can’t stop thinking about you, like half of me isn’t here anymore it’s with you, just hanging out, all that spooky action I wrote about and I’m sure didn’t really care and probably didn’t understand that when I write something I’m not making anything up, I’m describing reality exactly how it is, how it occurs to me. They’re not pretty words, frivolous words, they are the very fibers of my perception and my reality. It’s visceral and it’s real and I’m very good at articulating (usually) the exact feeling of something. I don’t dance around or play with words because oh look at the frivolity, it’s my soul, it’s who I am and it’s expression is my pitiful attempt at trying to be alive for a change, because mostly I’m dead, like most people. Most of this world is dead and there are a seldom few whom are awake and alive and seize life and the moment and I’m just not good enough of it yet, but I’m getting better. Most people go about their lives just living day to day and don’t have anything of much meaning, wouldn’t know what meaning was if it stared them in the eyes. Most people don’t know about suffering, even when they are, they don’t know how to get out of it, how to live for a moment for meaning, or truth. It’s a grey, grey world out there filled with grey, grey people and I’m finally turning into color, and you turn me into color. I just want more and it’s you or me, and that kills me.
Man I’m really fucking intense. I need to chill out. I don’t know why I’m getting so riled up. I need to talk to someone. I just feel alone, and I don’t want love, tho I do, I don’t think anyone should have to deal with me, particularly this early in a relationship. I’m a mess that I don’t want anyone to have to clean up. I’m fine, I say, but I’m not fine, I would rather be dead, and I’ve been seriously considering suicide and I don’t feel I have anyone I can talk to about that. I don’t feel like going on anymore. I’m bored and tired and I don’t fit in anywhere I feel, I know it’s not true, I just feel like it. I want to kill myself I don’t want this future, or this life.
I must be a mess.
I wouldn’t be upset if I didn’t care, and as much as it would suck if it didn’t work out, I’d be ok. So what am I so upset about? About letting her in? About the truth, that I’m sad and angry and mean and morally grey. Am I really so worked up about explaining myself or my past? No not really, not at all. Am I angry that she doesn’t seem to care at all for my art? Not that she doesn’t care but it’s not her thing, she isn’t turned on or flattered or touched. I suppose I feel a little insulted, and yet this is just who she is. If she told me my stuff sucked that would be one thing and I could handle the criticism. But to hear that she doesn’t care for it, as though she’s out of reach is terribly frustrating. But is that why I’m so upset? I don’t think so. Am I upset because I don’t think it’s going to work out and I came this far and there’s so much further left to go and I think I’m fooling myself and wasting my time. Kind of. But no. Not this upset. Am I upset at myself because I’ve done this again and fallen in love with someone that is unattainable. No. Am I pissed that I love her? Yeah, I made it really hard on myself, but that’s not why I’m so upset? No. Not really. Then what is it? I think I want to just die or be alone, and I don’t want anyone else coming into my life because unless they’re always going to be there I don’t want it. I want to curl up inside of someone and feel safe again. I haven’t felt safe in years. I feel particularly exposed right now with Ashley. And the slightest anything sets me off. I don’t know why. The tiger is wide awake and I can’t see any reason why it should be. Perhaps it’s an issue of managing expectations. I don’t think so because I respect her and her path, I just want her so much it hurts, it hurts a lot. I hate this feeling. Maybe the tiger is awake merely because of this conflict, I want her but can’t have her, I love her but I don’t want anything to do with love, I don’t know which way to go. When I was alone I had everything under control more or less. Now I’m still alone but there’s like this place holder. This vacant space that’s reserved with a timer on it and it’s mere existence is frustrating and distracting. I don’t need this right now. She makes me feel wonderful and supported and loved and trusted and honored. It’s fantastic, but I simply don’t have the head space for it right now. I’ll be pissing and moaning about it for months to come, but perhaps it’s best to put it to rest and better to torment dreams than torment yourself. I started this, and for that I feel foolish. But perhaps it’s more foolish to let this go on. I believe in love, more than anything, more than anyone, but I’d murder it in the street if I could. I’ve turned sour over the years, I’ve ditched it, and letting it out again has been lovely and a reminder of why I don’t do it anymore. I’ll stalk the jungle alone, there isn’t anyone that will fit beside me on my throne. It breaks my heart to kill this, but you can’t break what’s already broken. Or maybe I can just chill the fuck out and let whatever happen happen. I can’t keep doing what I’ve been doing. I can’t stop thinking about her and I can’t wait to hear from her or talk to her. Whenever anything happens I get anxious, this is not who I am and I don’t like this feeling of going crazy over her, let alone anyone, and I’m fucking bonkers for this woman. It scares me. I’m scared shitless right now by how I feel. And maybe that’s why the tiger is wide awake and ready to strike. But I need it to chill the fuck out. I need it to go back to sleep and I need this loving feeling to just cool it for a minute because I can’t think straight. It’s frustrating. Incredibly frustrating. It’s obsessive and neurotic and the distance doesn’t help and the disparity in personalities and goals doesn’t help. Basically nothing helps this situation except that she makes me feel better about everything and accepts and understands how I feel even when I’m going bar shit crazy. I trust her. A lot. And I’m afraid I could trust her with everything because some of that shit has never seen the light of day except on secret pages I’ve never shown anyone and may well never show anyone. Part of me is afraid I’ll scare her off and another part of me hopes I already have or will. Like a test: how much can you handle? And I’ll keep coming with more shit til you can’t handle it. There’s a snarl that reaches into my face at times on the left side. The sign of the tiger and all that.
I know you say “that’s a lot” to a number of things that I say. And I don’t disagree. And I don’t want to burden you with all of these feelings and clearly I need to be writing more, which I have been but perhaps there’s too much shit back logged or maybe you just pull up that much shit. I don’t know. I’m trying. I’m trying to sort this all out, I’m trying to do me, I’m trying to chill out, I’m trying to be open and vulnerable and honest so when you say “that’s a lot” I know it, because it’s a lot for me. Fuck I feel like forever polar bear. I always wanted something to be really wrong with me, because then maybe I’d have an excuse but I don’t and there isn’t and that’s frustrating, I wish I could just write this all off as some personality disorder. Some chemical balance I could just cure with more drugs (then again I don’t like pharmaceuticals, weed, tobacco, alcohol and the occasional hallucinogenic is just about all I do and weed and tobacco most of the work. Probably doesn’t help during all of this that I don’t have any tobacco. So yeah, my problem isn’t that you don’t like my poetry of that you don’t want kids or we want different things. It’s not the disparity between goals or interests of anything like that. My problem is that I’m in love with a beautiful, intelligent, funny woman who loves me back. And I just can’t handle that shit. At all. It occupies my thoughts and it makes me physically uncomfortable like I’ve got a knot in my stomachs or I’m on fire or my insides are crawling or I’ve got butterflies or I just need to vomit words until I hit the right one and something feels better.  
Sometimes I just want to weep in the arms of a woman, for hours on end. Or at least I wish I could. I need a sad movie or a beautiful one so I could just cry my eyes out. Wouldn’t that be nice. To go blind from the beauty of it all. I used to stare into the sun as a child.  
I don’t really talk to anyone, I’m an extrovert and an introvert, I have no problem talking to people but I don’t really want to tell anyone how I’m feeling if it’s anything other than good, and even then, I don’t know. I’m really only an artist because it’s the only therapy I know that works. I haven’t had a good dance in a long time. I need to get onstage somewhere and soon and just do whatever it is that I can. I wish I were in class again just so I could have those few minutes to just breathe and be me for a moment or two. I’m tired, I work myself to the bone and have little to show for it other than the knowledge and memory muscle gained. Russ told me to go to the impound to get a bike, maybe for as cheap as $200-$300 and then fix it up. God I would love that. I just want to get my hands dirty and build something, have something to do with my spare time. I think if I had a motorcycle I’d probably just wander off into the desert every so often, travel around California some and get lost for awhile. I’m going to get lost, I’m good at being lost. I’ve been lost most of my life. I need a cold beer and a hot shower. I want someone to come home to. Someone I can rely upon. Someone I can take out and go dancing with or stay home and get drunk on a bottle (or three) of wine. I want to trip out, I need a new vision. It’s time for some visions and some insight into this new me, this new path I’m on. I’m going to send you all of this, and maybe you have some insight into what my problem is, maybe there isn’t one. Maybe there isn’t a solution. Never you fear, I’m going to keep doing me. I always have. I just don’t want to do it by myself anymore. But maybe I always will and I just need to suck it up. Despite screwing me over initially, I’m flooded with work at the moment, and it’s great and I’m in good shape for it, could be better though, I just wonder when will I be done? Maybe I should just focus on my craft again. Of course I should. I need to get drunk sometime soon. I love being me, and I can’t stand being me. I had a cigarette tonight, hand rolled and it made me feel fucking super, chilled out and I just want to sleep and relax and talk to you for awhile, but that probably won’t happen for a few days. Busy week, busy weekend.
The next morning, I’m guessing something is off, usually she’s texting me first thing. I’m going to give her her space, figure her shit out. I think I’ve offended her, or pissed her off. Perhaps she’s thinking, what have I got myself into here? I must really not be in a place to be having a deep emotional relationship if I’m this emotionally unstable about having someone in my life. I suppose it’s good to know. I want to vomit and cry. I’ve got so much shit to do. There’s so much fucking pain and sadness within me. I often imagine my body is that of someone or something else’s like a sad bear, or that I had wings or that I was other creatures of my imagination, as though having those bodies protected me like a suit of armor or saved me simply by me not being here, not being at all.  
I thought I had things figured out, like I was happy and things were working out and life was beginning to stabilize for once in my life. Maybe they were and maybe they are. Of course I have to have someone walk into my life to throw a wrench in the works. Is this really what you want Michael? A life lived huffing it out in LA, scraping a living together by the sweat on my back, acting, freedom to roam whenever you see fit? Yeah I guess, I mean I wouldn’t mind something slightly less labor intensive but I do love working with my hands. And I’m building a career, slowly but surely. Ify’s been in it for years and only just now getting some good roles, do I have the patience to hang out for some opportunity? I think I could. I think of Robin Williams and how there was so much pain and sadness in him and how he made it his life’s work to make everyone laugh and believe and feel. I wonder that even with a family he felt alone and sad and tormented enough to take his own life. I have none of his success, nor a family and hardly an inch of his talent, but gosh, I identify. The only thing I really know how to do, but at least he did it, he went at it with a passion and a fury. I simply don’t write enough. I don’t perform enough. I haven’t got it all out of my soul just yet. I’m not right for human consumption, relationships rather. I’m too fickle, subject to change like the northern winds. I only exist in the moments of pure ecstasy when I’m not even here anymore, some spirit takes my place and the soul of performance takes over and I feel the sunshine in in a blast of light into this dark chasm that is my very being and it feeds me like the trees must feel after a long night times a thousand. Every inch of me is alive and there really isn’t anything at all but that moment, nothing is so real, so divine, so alive as that moment, it’
Though unlikely, it is possible that Ashley may never speak to me again and as painful as that would most certainly be, I’d be ok with, I’d go nuts after a few days sure, and after a few weeks I’d probably get really upset. But then maybe it would just be easier if she disappeared from my life entirely, like I disappeared from Rachel’s. I could just write this whole thing off as summer love or being foolish and just another reminder to never do this again. Because I don’t want to do this ever again. I hardly want to do this now. I’d rather not have to think about someone all the time, rather not worry about them, or how I’m feeling. I’d rather leave my feelings to my writing and to the stage and never have to give them another thought otherwise. Obviously that would never happen, still it’d be nice. I wish I didn’t have to feel things, or at least not so acutely, so intensely. I get that it makes me who I am, but god damn is this frustrating. I don’t know how anyone else could handle this, I can barely handle it, and I don’t like the thought of burdening anyone else with my feelings because they’re a lot and no one should have to put up with this shit.
Despite checking my phone every 10 minutes to see if I had a message from her, it was nice to not have contact today, nice to just chill out and work and not be in the middle of this torrent of emotion constantly for no good fucking reason. It was almost relaxing breaking my back today. I think I’ll have enough money to get current on my loans this month and maybe a cheap treat like a vape or something. We’ll see. Alone wants to give me more responsibility and maybe a better rate, but I might also get the Carrie gig. Carrie would be more money, and a good show to have on my resume. Alone isn’t likely to ever pay well but it’s a chance to perform in immersive theater and do something I really dig. Despite being paid very little
Something’s up, I think she’s still into me but I think I must have upset/irritated her or something I don’t know. She hasn’t mentioned the other day at all. Perhaps it really is a non issue. But I think I was maybe too snarky, or intense or sarcastic I don’t know. I’d like to just chill the fuck out about everything. I need some weed.  
I feel so neurotic. Like anything I could say or do would be pitiful, dramatic or manipulative. I just don’t want to feel like this anymore. I would much rather be dried up inside and not feeling anything. I may be facing my fear but that doesn’t make me feel like any less of a coward for feeling it. I’m tired I’m going through withdrawal, I’m overworked, undersexed and my alleged partner is 3000 miles away. Clearly I’ve got issues. I don’t want Ashley to have to deal with them, I want to deal with them. How do I do that? You talk to somebody. You write it out, you breathe, strive for calmness and 
Apparently I took a creepy photo of myself yesterday. Not sure what I’m supposed to make of that. Is that something you say to someone you care about? She was probably just kidding. I hate this, I really hate this, I’d like to just chill out about it all. Is she really feeling all cool and collected as she appears, is she in pain and tormented? Is she nervous and excited? Does she feel foolish? Does she really love me? 


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