So, I feel the immense need to put this down in writing because few things in the last year have left me feeling excited just at the memory and thought of the previous day's experiences. I have always held strong to the belief that Deja Vu simply exemplifies life transpiring and occurring as it should. I cannot recall exactly where I heard/when I thought of the saying but have used it since my early teens. Most of my life has not granted me the ability to hold on to the thoughts conspiring within my dreams. Simply put: I don't remember the majority of my dreams and even more so in the last few years. I had tried to write a dream journal which failed from the get-go when my ex felt she had the right to intrude upon any and every bit of my writing. And though I never tried to hide my writing or really anything in my life that would not prevent a fight from brewing due to my distorted, faulty, compromised recollection of a dream. Unfortunately, such actions from her inevitably changed my behaviour to stop writing almost entirely out of anxiety from superfluous criticisms, disrespect, and arguments. I stopped having the heart to write the painful truths that I have to get out of me because the emotional taxation came out of my chest thrice over: the original experience; the turmoil of reliving and writing; the burden of writing about the 'wrong' topic.
Last night's concert served as a marking point, a monolith, a closing of that chapter in my life. No longer will I empathetically delude or dilute my thoughts, ideas, writings, and feeling for the sake of providing the emotional support and healing to the self-centered people in my life. No longer will I apathetically numb myself to avoid the weight of propping other people up constantly while I struggle to hold myself together in balance on the tip of a needle. I have learned what it feels like to have the most important people in my life relegate my needs, wishes, desires to secondary behind my ability to stroke their ego, self-esteem, and self-importance. I just don't have the energy to constantly worry if the person talking to me has my best interests at heart or make that person happy in ways outside of my control. I don't want to have to not know where I stand in someone's life. I don't want to feel the need to apologize for or explain anxiety attacks that come from just seeing someone's name pop up on my phone screen. I don't want to explain to people why I have and will continue to deliberately not put energy into talking to certain people or, at the least, altering how I approach those people. I will not put my good thoughts and intentions, my healing heart, mind, and soul, or my love towards people that have made it clear how little they truly value my candor or me as a person.
The last year has revealed to me the people that truly support and care for me juxtaposed with the people that talk a good game. I've had to live and cope with depression and utter loneliness through the demise of the longest, most significant relationship of my life that stretches the span of my 20's. I've learned what losing friends and family feels like when you have to decide that those people care so little as to not extend invitations for holidays, birthdays, weddings.
My nose would grow long like Pinocchio if I tried to say doing so causes no love lost because I have lost so much love for these people. People I have held closer in my heart than the overwhelming majourity of any- and everyone I have ever met. My heart breaks at the thought of loving someone to my core, granting them access to the vulnerable parts of me that few witness, and having them show me that I do not occupy the same space in their chests. I weep for the memories with people that I may never see again beyond the superficiality of social media, networking, and profiles. I must admit, though, that some of those people became distant or resentful due to my own dickish behaviour like not showing up to support a bestfriend when her dad died although she came to me when mine died. I have and will continue to apologize for the rest of my days because I know exactly what that felt like when people talked a talk but never showed up, never stepped up, never gave a fuck. I am sorry for that; more than I could possibly hope to fit on this screen.
I have had the opportunity to self-reflect, ponder, write, cry, and fight to gain a deeper understanding of the person I have become over the last few years, the person I buried down deep inside, and the kid that I used to see in the mirror who still stands as a taller man than I.
I look back and see all the hurt and pain I have dealt with over the year and see the decisions I have made that caused those pains, but I also see the weights that have stopped bending my spine. I have left behind toxic and abusive relationships that only serve to deplete and drain my energy and good days. Friends have come back into my life while others have simply become more significant and important to me because they have nothing and seek nothing to gain from supporting me; people that genuinely care for my well-being, extend invitations, and allow me to make something entirely about me and only me for a fucking hour. For that last aspect alone they have my deepest love. Those friends reassure and remind me that the behaviours and actions of people in my past have no bearing on them going forward. They give me hope in a new day and hold my hand as I bleed on this page and vomit on the keyboard in my pursuit of closing the last chapter, writing the next, and sharing the entire experience with them.
Last night's concert served as the impetus to this writing. I had wanted to get this all down last night, but already stayed out and up way too late (and ended up late to work today). So, instead, I just let this writing simmer on the back burner of the Olympic swimming pool of ideas. I had the opportunity to meet both Anthony “Ant” Davis and Sean (Slug) Daley of Atmosphere prior to the show including a selfie with each of them. While Slug made it a point to walk down the line waiting at the door and talk to, take pictures, and give autographs (where I got my selfie), I happened to catch Ant walking across the other end of the parking lot. I realized most of the people around me had not noticed this even as I nearly ran to him skirting by the edge of the parking lot. Not only did I get to see them for the second time, I got to meet and take pictures with both of them!
After I met Ant, I walked back up the parking lot and found Slug still engaging the crowd (line) where he had met up with a local artist with amazing pencil drawings including one of the artist Prince. He had one in memory of Nate Dogg that had many signatures from different artists to which Slug added his namesake. I stood by snapping pictures of Slug, the fans, and the pencil artist. After only a couple of minutes I caught Slug with a sidebar and had the chance to actually talk with him directly, one-on-one, without anyone interrupting. I told him, “Hey man, last time you guys came to Villa Hispana in 2014 you played 'Yesterday,' and I loved it. [The songs] 'Caved In' and 'Yesterday' came into my life right after my dad died and I just connected with them on a different level. They got me through and gave me strength when I thought I had none. I just wanted to tell you how much those songs came to mean to me.”
He listened with intent, focus, and care while I told him all of this. Either a fan or the security guy said something to Slug and pulled his attention away for just a second but then returned to silent contemplation. What happened next made me “fan-girl” to the extreme including a busted nut in my pants at how gay it made me. Slug turned to me, looked me face-to-face and said, “Thank you for those words man.” I couldn't fucking believe it! I met him, took a picture with him, told him how much his music has saved my life, and he thanked me for sharing that with him! He thanked me!
