February 6, 2017
This morning I wrote to Elizabeth admitting I loved her. I told her that trying to reach out to her was like yelling into a black hole. I keep expecting an echo, but I’m a fool to expect anything to come back. I’d stand there and proclaim my love a million times anyway. I can’t help myself. When I feel intense emotions I sometimes do things I regret.
Remember this day, journal. Today Nell put up a picture of the two of them in love. It’s their wedding anniversary. I don’t care about the Super Bowl, which was yesterday. For normal people that’s the day they let their emotions free. Joy, outrage, camaraderie, frustration, surprise, whimsy, and flabbergastation. It’s almost a national holiday as the streets and shops feel the breeze of abandonment swooshing into the vibrant air of celebration into the bars and homes with cable TV. I give no shits about that. For me, such an emotional day is today, the day I’m reminded of all my past frustrations.
It’s sad isn’t it? That my own journal is littered with entries on Nell’s birthday, Nell’s anniversary, and days where Nell just got to me. My biggest motivation in life is to prove myself to this person who doesn’t care that I exist. Not only her, but to every person who doesn’t care that I exist. I just want someone to acknowledge me and love me.
But it makes sense. I write when I’m emotional, and she makes me emotional. Now that I think about it, that’s not entirely true. I write when I’m confused or sad. I don’t feel any desire to write when I’m happy, which I’ve been feeling more often than I ever thought was possible.
I’ve written more songs. I rented a cheap rehearsal studio and am recording them too. Practically everybody who listened liked “Funk Me”. The song is amazing, and it makes me happy that I wrote it. I feel accomplished, and I get that feeling where you go, “Oh, wait til they hear this! They’re gonna go nuts!” That’s pride, I guess. I’ve lived my whole life in humility. This bit of pride is very healthy for me.
Pocket aces is a tough hand to play. If you are too obvious with it, you won’t draw them in. If you don’t use it at all, you’ll end up wasting it. You have to milk it as much as you can before you reveal your hand. But that process is an agonizing one. Keeping a straight face while you have the best hand in the game is hard to bear. What if your whole life was just keeping a straight face while you are gathering power, knowing you could still lose? The more time goes by, the more you start doubting yourself. You could have just folded and went for a drink with the rest of the gang. That would have been way more fun. Yeah, no.
I’ll never stoop to crowdfunding myself. I want more time and freedom to write and record, but that’s too easy. I have to be able to say I did it on my own. I will rise with my own two legs. I will fly with my own spirit. And I will soar with my own voice. I’m almost at the mountain top. I’ll look down on everyone else. I’ll see Nell, I’ll see Elizabeth, I’ll see everyone I’ve ever known. And I’ll still be alone. Alone at the top. The curse of having a gift is that no matter how much you want people to understand you, the reality is that no one truly will. And you have to just keep being yourself, because being anything else isn’t real. Being fake is a much worse fate than being alone.
That’s what I really want. I want people to understand me through my music. That’s why I try so hard to express myself. That’s why this is more important to me than anything else. I don’t care about the money or the fame. I just want to be understood by the people I love. That’s what it’s about, isn’t it? Love. Love through understanding. That’s what Nell has right now. Someone who loves her deeply. Someone she loves just as much. That’s why I can be happy for her that she’s found that. It’s a beautiful and rare thing. Something when you see it, you have to say wow, you don’t see that every day. But you also wish that could be you. I wish it could be me. But I’m afraid I have a better chance of dying alone with no one around to hear my cries.