Near the end of the night, when the endorphins were faded, I thought about how I’d played music I don’t care about for a band I’m not actually in, how there were people there for whom the most generous term I could use would be frenemy, how I was hungry and tired and watching another tedious metal band…
And I looked inside for the death wish and it wasn’t there, I looked for the Mandi pain and it wasn’t there. Not just away, not just on the periphery of a bubble but really not there.
I wasn’t happy but I could feel that I wasn’t depressed. I feel like I came out of the tunnel and rushed into sunlight, I can see the trees and the lake again before the next tunnel.
Being a tangential reckless hero at a beer core show gave me the belonging I need to be okay. Just okay, just a baseline-happy human being for a while. Not elated, just not in any pain.
I woke up happy. I got to work happy. And I know it’s going to fade. I know I’m in the wake of a joyful experience but that’s very different than being in a bubble.
All I wanted was to share it with Maria, just because it’ll make her happy that I’m happy and her happiness will make me even happier.
When I would try to share things with Mandi there was always a sense that I had to be proving something, it had to be worth it for her to be happy for me. Also I wanted to seem interesting/fun and I felt if I could just share the right things with her she’d like me the way she used to. That’s where the vicious, addictive cycle came from.
I got through a very long, very tired day of work. Being hungover there was always a sense that you had to fight through it, you couldn’t let anyone down. Disappointing someone when you’re hungover is actually one of the worst feelings possible, it must be a blood sugar thing. But just being tired it’s easy to phone it in and slack off.
I wanted to just crash but ended up talking to Maria all night.