I wanted to leave this update in case there are peanut gallery borrowers who are worry warts like me – I will likely be going into inpatient treatment soon. Within my real life environment, people are rarely willing to tolerate an emotionally inconvenient me. I need a separate space to heal and be held.
I drew the picture at the end of this post tonight — insane self indulgence. After I sent it to Laura, I mindlessly checked Reddit. What I saw on the front page was ironically the least cringe thing it could be, but one of the most stupidly coincidental and devastating. Drew’s band.
I know the pattern too well now. Euphoria, Excitement, Joy…a beat later, shame sours and curdles the elixir. A love with nowhere to go. Screaming with living grief.
Their album is called Parasocial.
I hate it here. Is that feeling allowed? I hate this life. My love pours out recklessly with no one to catch it. My mind spins me fantasies and dares me to trust my “intuition” one last time. I don’t want to be at this party anymore. I’m ready to call it a night.
I call a cab to the hospital instead. The nurses won’t shy away when puss and blood drain from my mangled feet, won’t give me irritated looks until I put the tiny shoes back on. They will understand why I need the wheelchair, even though I could walk “just fine” before. They’ll give me the space to get worse before I get better. They will. For a month, for a price. Make it count.
It is love in the truest sense that I’m doing this fucking shit again. This is me trying. For those who love me, I want your love to have somewhere to go. I hope it’s easier for me to feel it one day.
Edit: reaction to the second channel video danny dropped today —
>>robyns_ramblings 