My attention span isn’t great right now, but lets see if I can still make this happen since I’m trying to avoid writing off of inspiration and switch to writing off of concrete feelings, emotions, memories, or events. This is going against my attempts to stop writing from the middle, where I tend to be too fair, or considerate. I really don’t want to write that way anymore…
On Sunday I/we hit 20 years… Sunday is also Mothers Day, so that’s a nice touch that needed to be acknowledged.
I think what I’m MOST tired of is how other people process MY pains and tragedies all these years on, regardless of how long they’ve been in my life. I’m tired of hurting too. I’m also tired of wanting to quit, but I still do. I don’t find joy anywhere… Now, so what, grow the fuck up Swiney, tens of millions of people have it worse than you do, or ever did. Well, newsflash; I don’t care about those tens of millions of people…
I cared about Donna, and she fucked up and died. And I told myself a couple of years post tragedy that I wasn’t ever returning to being a regular guy again because comin’ home to anyone but her wasn’t going to cut it. I could suffer with her. I could lose fights and get my nose broken & have two black eyes for a week when she was around. I can’t with anyone else… I saw those movies, and no offense, those women just couldn’t find a way to be my best friend. Tough shoes to fill, for sure, probably impossible,.. but so what. That became the standard, and it remained, forever cursing me in my life’s endeavors of the heart…
Well until last year when I fell in love w/a married gal… who couldn’t and WOULDN’T be mine (more importantly), again dashing me headlong onto the rocks of loneliness and despair. This wasn’t a blessing or curse this time around though, it just was, and it has added to my continued existence of extremes, which is all I’ll ever know…
On the 405 today I had Donna come through my mind because of what was on the stereo, only it didn’t pull on my heartstrings. The muscles are overdeveloped around my heart and have only the thinnest of cracks to sneak thru.. When they do it goes ALL the way to the center, and that hurts,.. but this didn’t, it was just more acknowledgement of what was, and who I’ve become 20 years A.D.
I’m someone who struggles internally. I struggle often,..daily at times. My depression IS real, even if only I say so, since I know how suffocating it is, and I will make no apologies for my weaknesses.. I’m completely over any concern or worry you might have of me still wallowing, or copping out, because I get through my day how I need to. And if I have to take things out of every set of hands around me to get by, then I will. If I have to slouch on this 40 year old mattress 5 days a week, then I’m going to do that too, since that’s the only way I’ve been able to survive my heart being decimated from the moment I received that phone call from Emily on May 14th that she was dead..
Sometimes I can feel how tired you get of my grieving, or of my cloud that can appear out of nowhere to make it seem that all I have to cling to is tears, and sob stories. But look, I can’t apologize for any of that, that would be betrayal, and would have made the 20 year penance pointless, devalued. So I won’t,… I’ll just leave this statement here for you to digest as I near starting a new chapter in my life now that my porno ‘career’ has all but died, leaving me few, if any options left that will keep me out of the grasp of the regular world again, which I know will destroy me, much like it was doing back in 2003…
The epiphany I had that day at Emmanuel Jones’ pool told me too much, and still tells me clearly, why I had to depart normalcy.. A clock, boundries, expectations, confinements, routes, structure,… ALL had become completely toxic to me on all levels, and I needed to bolt before I finally did something drastic, which I would have. I was not far from my first 3-4 day hangover in 2003, and had I not had porno to remain somewhat in control for, would’ve seen the alcohol & Xanax/codeine/Vicodin levels remain above the water line. I was still angry then, and not quite aware of what was eating at me a few layers under the surface, which was the growing realization that ‘joy’ was no longer in my life, and henceforth was creating a new plateau of despair, humiliation, and self loathing.
The real/regular world was crushing me, causing paranoia and anxiety, and making me question why I was even still alive? Outside of not wanting to upset/depress people I couldn’t find a reason(to not kill myself/O.D.). Surely I had no purpose. But deep down, I don’t want to die. On the ‘Damaged’ LP the track ‘What I See’ has a line where Henry says,
“I wanna live, I wish I was dead.”
Completely caught in the middle of a realization… The fusion of confusion.
That day I decided jettison everything possible in my life leading up to my hand touching the gate, because I knew I couldn’t play the game straight up anymore.. The real world was winning, and me walking away from it, NEVER participating in it again, was my only hope.
I was right… and still am.
I’m not coming back. Donna’s not coming back. The woman who’s still alive that I fell in love with isn’t coming back. NOTHING is coming back. So the plan stays the same; take everything from everyone every chance and every opportunity. Outperform when possible. Out think/outfox everyone when outrunning and defeating the strong isn’t an option.
How do you think I’m still here, and able to write this? I only win when I have to.
My Moms’ is talking too much here, sending me all of this vigor and pugnacity from the other side. Getting hurt last week has been a real reminder of how old I’m getting, and how close I am to absolute peril if I get hurt again at the wrong time since I have NO savings, NO real income, NO health insurance, NO one to bail me out.. It’s all I’ve ever known though, how do you change that? You don’t, it changes you.
That’s all for now…. – T.von