daredevil

december 30th 2007.

i had been anxious about it for days. my very small cameo appearance on harmonica's show doin' 2 songs. i keep looking over the video that i recorded on my digital camera and all i can think is, yuck. i looked kinda awkward. the sunglasses may have helped my confidence, but they didn't really look good on me. i hate how i looked. there i said it. and i heard later that the first words out the haters' mouths were whisperings of "John Legend". ugh.

i did "so unfair" and "why did you call". the last song i channeled as much of the shit i've been going through as i could into. hopefully my sincerity came through, coz lawd knows i looked kinda crappy.

what's funny was that finishing the set and walking around was worse than the before or the during. i had gotten that part out of the way and all i wanted to do was cry. none of it felt real. there was no great love to enfold me at the finish line. yes friends and family were there, and i was grateful. but i had to keep going with the performance, going from person to person trying to get people to join up in the mailing list or talk about my music or passing out my business card. i had to keep going. i didn't want to talk to any of these new people. more people to in some way shape or form try to please. i was soooooo tired.

maybe that was it too, because i had worked the night before and hadn't slept very well. but the exhaustion was mental and spiritual, and i could feel myself wanting to break down in the middle of the club. i don't know what was more maddening. why i was feeling the way i was, or that i had to bottle it all up until i was in the privacy of my own home, 3 hours later...

for the record

nothing came in the mail. i'll send it back, unopened, if it ever comes.

sadism

3:51AM

down time at work. idleness is indeed the devil's playground.

my head's pounding and i want to scream. nothing to do and no one to talk to. i tossed and turned all day. i thought we agreed not to have anything to do with each other?! why the fuck are you texting me? why, when you know it HURTS. it fucking hurts so bad and i was already having trouble sleeping and seeing your number come up made my mind race and my anxiety elevate to new heights. what the fuck are you DOING?! are you really that insensitive? that inconsiderate?

there is no good time to call. there is no gift to send. just stay away from me. if you think to call or send one of your stupid texts one day... DON'T. i may actually be in a good mood and hearing from you fucks it all up.

and keep your gifts. there was only one thing i ever wanted from you, and it's not something that can come in the mail.

just stay away from me. lose my number. delete me as surely as you have from your life. your friends are pieces of shit for tellin' you to stay away from me, why would i want to count myself among them?

mastery of me

i found out that ledisi is performing february 15th at the Highline Ballroom. i want to go, but the idea of not taking Julio feels wrong. meantime, he would have no compunction about doing the same thing, in all likelihood. shit, if we're bein' real about it, i'm sure he has no problem, no pang of regret, no sentiments about rocking ANYthing that i have gotten or made for him.

so why can't i throw out these books? i can't stand to even look at them, but they're only thing i have from him. it'd be a good symbolic step towards letting go, right? if i were more evolved perhaps i would be able to separate the sentiments/symbolisms i've weighted upon it, and take it for what it is. but hell, i made the effort to read them, painful though it was, and tried to glean what knowledge and wisdom i could. now i must do myself another favor and let these go too.

i'll find people to go with, i guess. i have to. that's what people who move on do, right? i should at least go through the motions...

on death and lying

i'm scared. i'm home in bed wearing a hoodie sweater and sweatpants, buried under a mountain of blankets. i don't think i have any choice but to tell SOMEbody in my family. i've isolated myself so long about my status that i seem to only be able to run to or confide in past partners that i've disclosed to about any concerns i may have about my condition. the friends that know can only do but so much. the only one that knows that drives is Blandon, and he has proven that he is no friend at all.

but i lied this time. julio had apparently been checking in on me via myspace and my blogs, and expressed concern about the latest entry. what the hell for?! in vain i tried to keep from doing the same, and only allowed myself to read his blog page on occasion, only to have the message ring loud and clear: he thinks me detrimental to his life, at least in the capacity of a date/boyfriend/situation. i get that human concern is universal, but damned if he ain't cut me off. why does he get to call the shots? why do i let him? certainly not in my life...

he called, after all this time of not accepting MY phone calls, and ignoring MY text messages, "just wanted to see if you were alright." to what end? would he have jumped on the next bus to see me? doubtful, but even if that were the case, it was not how i envisioned seeing him again. it's not like he wanted to get back together anyway. so, despite myself, i told him i was fine. i also told him to stop checking on my blogs. i don't feel like coming up with yet ANOTHER blog site name. i bet he doesn't care to change his either.

i am feverish. my head is pounding. i feel fatigued. the smallest actions drain me. i don't feel like i'm getting enough air in my lungs, and it hurts to breathe deeper. i am sweating but still shivering uncontrollably. i can't sleep as a result, and have been awake for the last 36 hours because i'm trying to keep from taking any more ambien. but my doctor is on vacation, and after telling him that i thought it may have just been a panic attack, calling him on his cellphone feels like i'm just crying wolf.

my family is at my sister's house, and i am home alone. and i am scared. i don't know who to tell or talk to. there is no one to comfort me.

this morning i crawled out of bed long enough to grab my laptop on a hunch. my heart sank as i listed the symptoms i was feeling over at WebMD. reading through the various potentials i swallowed painfully, and decided i was going to at least tell my little sister. i didn't want to die alone.

please let it just be a flu, and not pneumonia.

a sad commentary on the state of our country's healthcare?

was it a sad commentary on the state of our country's healthcare system?

maybe, but my country was the last thing on my mind around 9:50PM. i was taking my weekly prescribed shot intramuscularly in the privacy of my bathroom where there were mirrors aplenty. i've never gotten used to the needles. i always gotta do something to "fool" myself, or distract myself before injecting, but it's been over a year now that i've been doing it. nothing out of the ordinary, you could almost say... for me anyway...

10 seconds later my vision started to darken a little bit, and my chest constrict. my throat tightened and i coughed involuntarily. what the fuck?! before my thought could complete the f-word i coughed again. and again. i couldn't breath because my throat kept spasming. i had no clue what was going on and i was scared. the coughs came more violently and my chest and throat were hurting, but stupid me i was almost more concerned about what the ambulatory bill would cost should i call emergency (this has happened before when i had my jaw fractured and cringed at the bill) than my own survival.

in my state of panic, my brain scrambled for who the fuck to call. it kept shying away from the obvious: family. no one was home, but it didn't matter because i didn't want them to know anything was wrong. i've fooled myself into believing that i had kept them in the dark for the past 3 years, and i wasn't about to let this change my M.O. how stupid is that, right? so i started thinking about who knew about my situation that drove...

why did i start calling javier? the guy that broke my jaw straight down middle? thankfully i came to my senses and hung up, then proceeded to call Blandon, someone who, despite our random conflicts, i considered a good friend. Of course he told me to call 911. am i the only one that charges blindly onto the scene to save the day? why everybody else gotta make sense?

of course my logic went along a different path. i'm already shit deep in debt. i really didn't want to end up having to shell out more money that i didn't have, or have to ask anybody else to help me out with it after the fact, either. hastily i put on my clothes, hurt that blandon didn't offer to be right over. i'll just take a cab, then. my second thought was that i hope i ain't passed out while in a state of half-dress...

my third phone call, finally was to my doctor. i struggled to explain my condition. naturally, he, too, insisted i call 911. reluctantly i agreed, then hung up the phone and continued dressing. lord, please let me at least have SOME dignity, i prayed. the phone rang again and i glanced quickly at the caller id (julio? i thought wildly, before i could pull the thought back into the dark recesses of my brain from which it came) and mentally snorted in disgust when i saw it was just blandon (*smacks forehead*). i ignored it, resentful. a few seconds later it rang again and this time it was my doctor:

"What is your address?"

Huh? Dumbly i recited it between coughs, only to realize that he was calling the ambulance on my behalf. so much for fatalism! i nodded my assent to nobody in particular, and resignedly continued to dress, making sure i packed my iPod and phone, along with their respective chargers, bracing myself for a long night. i also called work to tell them there was a good chance i was not coming in.

sirens blared in the distance. hurriedly i threw on sweat pants and sneakers. a hooded sweater pulled over my head and a buttoned up bubble vest completed the outfit. good thing it wasn't as cold as the night before because i wouldn't have been prepared, but all i could think about was keeping whatever attention i was drawing (or going to draw) to a minumum. i ran outside the co-op building hoping to intercept the ambulance and circumvent the possibility of uniformed civil servants stomping up to the front door and ringing the bell, asking for ME.

the ambulance pulled up to the apartment building, and i waved them down as the first EMT exited the vehicle from the driver's side. after i identified myself, the EMTs ushered me in, taking my blood pressure and checking my lungs. by that time i was starting to calm down, and started apologizing profusely, embarrassed. questions concerning my health ensued, and thankfully they were satisfied with my answers, because they let me off after i signed a form waiving transport to the nearest hospital.

i then went back inside and called work to tell them that i would indeed be coming in to work. my chest was still sore, as was one side of my jaw from all the coughing and heaving, and any heavy breaths would bring on a fresh onslaught of the same. still, what did it matter? whether i stayed home and called out sick to recover, or lick my wounds at work in the dead of night, i would still be all alone.

in the morning, i will go to the doctor's office after to make sure everything is okay.

----------------------------------------------------------------

i don't want to be the new face
but it's too late
i'm my only representation
these days

ain't tryin to spark no debate
or rehash the things that others say
i just want to be myself
and it be okay.

the new face by dominic * san juan

you only think about yourself.

there was a point in the last month where i would be driven by my anger, but all i have in the last few days is lethargy. i don't want to do anything. i'm hella depressed, but i don't want to drink, i don't want to go on anti-depressants. how i feel is how i feel, and i don't ever want it to be less than genuine.

i'd be bored at work, with just the internet for company, and would start to type "adam..." only to remember that i had taken the account down, along with all the others. what's the point? what's the point of any of it? right now it's 10pm... i can't find the will to go to the gym before work tonight...

it's so debilitating...

all i feel like doing is writing more music, more songs, trying to articulate everything i'm feeling and condensing it into a format under five minutes to share with the general public. why? why now when i'm at a low? because anything outside of that would sound pathetic, and "too much information." the one i really want to share it with has turned a deaf ear to me.

come to think of it though, he never really expressed any interest in that facet of me. how could i have let that slide? my music is a very important part of me, and i was happy to gloss it over because it didn't matter when i had HIM on the brain. his excuse was that he wasn't sure if i'd be sensitive about my shit, given the M.O. of his OTHER exes, as if to say THEY did anything with their art except talk about it. what, THEY got a myspace page with their own written music on it? they go out to open mics and tell you they would like for you to be there? no, i'm pretty sure i'm the only one actively doin' anything about it. but yet again, it was one more thing you needed to be hit over the head with. like i had to get on a bullhorn for you to be considerate.

somehow *i* became the one with the problems though. *i* was the one you had to remove from the equation. the one that your gut (and your wack ass SINGLE gurlfriends-- i ain't gotta tell YOU that misery loves company...) "screamed" at you that i was detrimental to your well-being. that i was the one at fault.

and perhaps the greatest fault--the most heinous crime-- that *i* committed, was to myself. i forgot my own worth. i forgot that there are things that i deserve. that i am worth the effort it takes to maintain a long distance relationship. worth spending time with. worth the thoughtful phone call. worth being in a REAL relationship with. why the fuck are you trying to call it a relationship now? even your language reflects your distaste for it. you referred to it, when you finally admitted to it BEING a relationship, as "that" relationship, not "our" relationship. i deserved better. i still do.

doesn't change the fact that i really did love you. or that i still do. but i DO know what i'm worth.

i am a truly warm, thoughtful, considerate, disgustingly talented, incredibly intelligent, funny, attractive, and sincere man, admittedly with some shit to work through. i have been hurt, invalidated, dismissed, passed over, broken, stabbed in the back, and been dumped. and it's happened again.

hard to move, but i got to.