I sat in my car in the sea of I 25 yesterday afternoon, waiting to migrate off a road turned into a graveyard. May she be peaceful on her way. I had lots of numb time to think, to sort of dwell upon the melancholy that's settled over me.
I equate the feeling of stress with suburban malaise. It feels like failure. I will jump into high-stakes situations and feed off the adrenaline but boring common-place stress feels like failure. And like someone is sitting on my chest, eating more and more, the weight becoming greater each day.
I awoke at 2am and didn't resch for a pill. I read a fashion magazine, massaged some oil onto my skin. Today I was tired, but not drugged.
I love the people with whom I work. An amazing family, my tribe. Queer. Smart. Loving. The stress I feel is due to lifestyle and I spoke up today. I feel better to keep trying now, I just needed to be heard. Life is too fragile and beautiful to be wasted on an airplane if it's not what the heart desires. I've turned down two dates this week due to my schedule, and who knows, they could've been the night, the person. SuperDave and I had a beautiful night in SF, walking hand in hand through the twisted streets. A kindred soul. Gypsy, like me. I feel connected to him in death as I do in this life. He was so close to it and he tells me I was there. He has been one of my hardest friendships, but most profound.
Adam returns tomorrow. Love is is spell beyond me, ensnared.
Aloha.
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