So who out there can handle real life? I want what you have. I strive to be near people who appear to handle it. It calms me. Too bad it’s nothing but a temporary balm.
I try to keep things on an even keel. I try to stay free from vices. I try to be wise in my decision-making. I try to learn from my mistakes. I seek out wisdom from those who seem to possess it.

It is my instability and my neediness which are the problems. But why do I feel like they are a natural reaction to the world around me? I have never blamed my sensitiveness for my problems, because I only see it as an asset. I would like to retain that supposition.

That leaves something else as the culprit. Is it society? Yes. Is it my history? Yes. Is it karma from previous existences? Perhaps. Is it my lack of judgment? No, I do not want to blame that. I don’t think blaming a part of myself is helpful or deeply true. Hating myself is a reaction to something else that is going on, not a cause.

I used to like to say that the only place I felt right was onstage during a performance. That realization came later on, in college. Before then I didn’t even comprehend the ridiculousness of my emotional situation. I can handle the unhandlable much better than normalcy. It’s ludicrous. Or is it? Is what people call normal life really so straightforward and simple? And is getting up in front of hundreds or thousands of people to perform and express something unique so daunting? What if that’s the only time you feel like you are yourself? Like you are unencumbered and free. Why is it I feel that time stops when I am performing, but the rest of the time, time is a weight on my head, taunting me not to fuck up this minute, this second, this year, this life, not to make the same mistakes I’ve made innumerable times before, ones that cause me to not sleep most of a night, or regret what I’ve said or didn’t say, or wonder what in the world I’ve been doing for the last three hours.

originally published on 5/20/09