Almost Famous

Seeing as though there are only a few people who actually read this, and only one who subscribes, these mostly fall on deaf ears and only serve to justify my constantly fluctuating ego.

During the past several months I have been throwing myself full-steam into my work, hoping to drown out the possibilities of new friendships. I have come to realize that although I value my friends, I don't have time for very many of them. I want to be that guy; you know, the one go-to person for everyone, the person everyone can count on for a helping hand or an ear to listen. I must say that I feel this mission has helped pull me out of the deep depression I encountered earlier this year. But I miss my private time. I miss going home to an empty, drab apartment that I hated and laying down all my frustrations into a microphone, telling my story to the neighbors through the music bleeding through my paper walls. I miss hating myself, my situation, the me-against-the-world attitude of before. It's gone, and sometimes I feel like I intentionally try to self-destruct when things are going well, in order to keep the peace inside my head.

People from my past, people I just met, people in general and in particular, are collectively stealing the unhappiness that resides within me; these feelings are rightfully mine and do not belong to anyone else, yet it is becoming increasingly harder for me to shut my mouth and let it continue. I haven't been able to write a meaningful verse in quite some time, mainly due to the fact that I don't have a second to rest my eyes, let alone find my 'unhappy place'. Yes, I know it sounds weird and abnormal, but I feel as though Kurt Cobain said it best: 'I miss the comfort in being sad'. Those words ring true in my head now as they did before, only now I miss those days more than ever. I know I'm not normal; I don't want to be though. Nobody even has the slightest idea of what that is anyway.

I guess what I'm saying is that I'm getting older, and I no longer have the strength to battle it out with the depression anymore. Actually, it's probably more like I don't have the time. How sad is that, that I have to schedule my depression? Too many people are coming to my aid, telling me how great I am, forgiving me too easily for injustices that have happened. I want it that way, but at the same time I don't; I want to be loved and hated at the same time, bothered but left alone to myself. I feel like I'm starting to hit the proverbial mid-life crisis, where I can't decide whether to stay this course or shake it all up again.

I'm almost famous; I'd like to think my talents as a musician are going to get me somewhere, but I know full well I'm a hack at best, and I'm not sure whether to believe people or scoff at them when they think I'm talented. I often flirt with the idea of working hard at music, but I think I'd rather tell people I'm not good enough, rather than fail and prove it. I've had the taste of failure on my tongue before and it's as bitter as rejection; probably because they're so closely related. At this point I'm just floating along; for how long I don't know. But I hope some of you will be drifting along when I finally decide to either come ashore or drown; I'll need someone to help pull me in. Or witness my demise.