That’s right, isn’t it? I feel like I’ve been deceiving myself. About the whole energy levels thing. I think I was wrong about it. I think energy meshes well with energy, and anything else kills it.
I haven’t written here in a while, but I think maybe the reason for how I’ve been the past two weeks is that I haven’t been working out what needs to be worked out.
I messed up a lot of things and nothing ended like it was supposed to and now I feel like messing up even more things, because, well, fire feeds fire.
And the thing is that if I do one hectic thing like screw something up really badly, then the other things will just follow like dominoes or a chain reaction and I really really think I’m headed towards the bottom of the well and I’m not gonna be able to climb out of it.
I mean, really, have you ever tried to climb out of a well?
It’s really been one thing after another. I’m trying to think of when it started. I’m trying to think of what triggered it. I think this might require a little research. Hold on.
I think it started on my mom’s birthday. On March 30. Never mind, I thought it was something else. That was the day New York University rejected me and then a few days later, on April 4, was when my parents found out I’d been drinking, and then about a week later, on April 9, was when I realized I was too far into my sick game, and then on April 12 was when I ended it, and that was ten days ago, and now it’s April 22 and I am so close to rock bottom, I just want to smash my head against the stone already.
Oh my god, it’s like all the pages have just been flying out one after another and I can’t slow down, I’m terrified, I don’t know what is happening to me. I think I broke it.
I’m trying really hard to think of times I was genuinely happy and everything wasn’t a complete and total mess. There was this one day in late-ish January that I came back home from school and put on Sarah by The Slackers and I remember thinking I hadn’t felt so unconcerned in so long. And there was this other moment, right after I held auditions for my play, that I came home and I looked at myself in the mirror and I said to myself over and over ‘I am a play director’ and my parents were yelling at me, but I felt so fucking unaffected and free.
I was happy on February 23 when I went over to my friend Karen’s house and we sat for hours on her carpet and talked and ate ice cream, and I felt so safe in her apartment that looked exactly like my old apartment, even though there’s the whole thing of how I spent my CHILDHOOD in one of those, and I’m not gonna talk about my childhood, but, God, I can’t explain it, I just felt like myself, I felt so far away from everything, but more myself than I’ve felt since maybe
A year ago. When I went to California. I remember that, because it was the day after I told Quinn I’d be his girlfriend, and I was so happy to get out of this place. God I wonder why.
I was happy on the day of the play. Not the one acts. The play that just happened. It was opening night. My friends and I had a crying party instead of going to class C Block, and then D Block Hannah and I walked around the school and ate brownies and it was great, and then that night, at IHOP, I remember I started crying, but it was nice, and it was just me and Callum and Hannah and Jill in one booth and it was so nice how it was just us, because we were all going through the same thing. We started talking about how much we’d changed and I just started crying and I don’t know why I like things that break my heart so much.
Some of the things I haven’t thought about in a long time have started coming back to me, because there have been all these really convenient triggers. It’s not just the temperature anymore. It’s not just the light. It’s the motions I’ve been going through. It’s the same situations same places different times different people different different DIFFERENT DIFFERENT I can’t fucking tell the difference anymore.
All I know is I am definitely unhappy. I am unhappy I am unhappy I am unhappy and I know I did this to myself and I think now that I am at a little bit of a distance I can see that I was using some things to excuse my unhappiness to myself and other things to keep myself able to function and it’s so, so screwed up, the things I’ve been doing to keep myself sane enough to go through my life, but that’s why I’ve been doing it and I can’t believe I’ve been so blind.
I feel trapped in this house in my body in every situation I’ve put myself in, in my mind, in myself, in the same picture in front of my face that I wish I could rip away, but I guess it’s not made of paper, I guess it’s really there.
((I can’t tell I can’t tell if this has done me more harm than good))