sick and tired

this weekend has been challenging. i’ve been sick with what i can only assume is covid and it has severely limited my energy, my patience, and my ability to actually do anything.

unfortunately, that doesn’t seem to register with a handful of people. maybe for some it is because they are just too young to care about anyone but themselves, or maybe it’s because i downplay the severity to not appear weak or whatever, but fuck… a little empathy would be nice.

things with z have been… uhmm… difficult. twice she has made plans for herself this past weekend, which is totally fine, the only thing i ask is “where are you going, and when will you be back?”, that’s it. and both times she has completely disregarded that. for example, she said she would be home by 9:00pm, and instead shows up at 11pm, no heads up, no explanation, no nothing. and when asked about it, i get a “bro, why do you even care? it’s not that deep.”…

i tried bringing it up with k because i could really use some parental backup in this regard, i don’t think i am being unreasonable. instead of backup though, i got condescension and was told i should calm down, she’s only 14 and doesn’t mean any harm by it. i just stopped the conversation there and didn’t respond any further after that. talk about a slap in the face.

so… maybe i am wrong? i don’t think i am… but what am i supposed to do here? i am sick and tired of being the bad guy all the fucking time. am i being unreasonable? should i just not care about this kind of thing?

home

while on the plane headed home yesterday, i was texting with a and she made a comment that really struck me. she reminded me how several months ago, i looked forward to escaping “home” any chance i could. even a trip to the store was a sought after break from my reality. a lot of things then were really about escaping. about getting away. about separating myself from my then life. be it short trips, long trips, even virtual trips into video games or movies… it was all the same motivation.

and then yesterday, high above the atlantic, heading back home after 9 days of being nearly 6000 kms away from everything i knew, all i could think about, all i could talk about, was how much i wanted to get back home. not my home from 6 months ago, but my home from today. i missed my cat. i missed my coffee. i missed my couch and my desk and my projects and my shower and my kitchen and my kids and.. i guess.. my life. weird. not bad weird. good weird. still weird.

i still think about k a lot. i wonder how she is doing. i hope she is ok. i know my thoughts have been wildly chaotic and often not so happy though out this whole thing, but i also had been processing for months and months and months. i don’t know for sure that she is in the same place. she might be where i was months ago but without some of the uncertainty… i suspect we were reading from the same book, but i was a few chapters ahead of her and i told her what was going to happen… but she still needs to read the book. eugh, that was a sloppy analogy, but hopefully it makes sense.

the right house

this isn’t right. it’s not that something’s broken, or missing, or misaligned. it’s not like the furniture’s all wrong or the light doesn’t hit the windows quite right. it’s not that something hasn’t arrived yet or that something’s been forgotten. it’s not even chaos. it’s not noise or clutter or imbalance. it’s just… not right. completely and fundamentally not right. like an itch you can’t reach or a word that’s just out of grasp.

it’s like stepping into a house that looks exactly like yours. same number on the door, same creak in the floorboard when you step in, same smell in the hallway. but none of it settles in your bones the way home should. none of it says you belong here. you try to make it make sense—check your phone, retrace your steps, say maybe i’m tired, maybe i’m overwhelmed—but deep down, you know. this is not right. it looks like it, but it isn’t.

and i’m halfway across the world at this very moment, technically somewhere beautiful, somewhere people save up and dream about, but none of that lands. it feels like i’ve slipped out of sync with everything. like the version of me that was supposed to be here is stuck in traffic and i’m just the understudy waiting to be told what to do next. i sit still, i try to be quiet, i try to rot in peace. and even that—something that should be so easy—feels off. like i’m failing at doing nothing.

i reach out, throw little lines into the water. a few texts, a few updates. but everyone’s busy, everyone’s in their rhythm. they’ve got their right houses with their right people and their right routines. and that’s fine. really, i mean that. i’m not bitter. it’s not resentment. it’s just observation. if i were in my right house, i’d probably be unreachable too. i’d be folding laundry or making dinner or doing some deeply mundane thing and loving it because it would feel like mine. but instead i’m here, floating above everything like a ghost in my own life.

i wonder if i’m supposed to be doing something about this. like, is there a map? am i supposed to be hunting for the right house like a lost dog sniffing its way back home? or is that the wrong metaphor. maybe you don’t find the house, maybe you build it. maybe you unpack one box at a time until the wrong place softens and reshapes itself around you. maybe it never feels exactly right, but it becomes less wrong. but i don’t know. i don’t even know what kind of wallpaper i’d pick if given the chance.

i keep trying to find something to hold onto—some thread that will anchor me—but most of the time i just feel like i’m slipping. not in a dramatic, falling-off-a-cliff kind of way, more like a slow slide into nothing in particular. like time is leaking out around me, pooling on the floor, and i can’t scoop it up fast enough.

so here i am. suspended in this almost-life, with too much and not enough all at once. feeling like i’m burning daylight, squandering beauty, letting things wilt in my hands. but i don’t know how to stop it. or change it. or even name it properly. i just know this isn’t right. and that i’m tired of pretending like it might be if i just squint hard enough.

time

just when i feel like i have enough, i realize i totally don’t.

time, this finite resource, undervalued and squandered by everyone, myself included.

i feel remorseful. i have neglected some people recently, not because i want to, not because they have done anything wrong, not because of anything other than having to prioritize other things first.

and now, i am leaving for 9 days to the other side of the world, and so that neglect continues to expand and affect even more things.

space

you know what? i hate this word.

i think mostly because it’s so vague, so bland, so non-descript, so open ended that it provides zero clarity and only insecurity.

it’s a convenient way of telling someone you don’t want to talk or interact with them by leveraging their feelings for you against them and doesn’t require you to offer any explanation whatsoever, you need space to figure that out, right?

it really doesn’t feel good to be on the receiving end of that and yet somehow feels incredibly relieving to be on the giving end of that and have it accepted without being challenged too much.

what a selfish construct of interpersonal relationships. i hate it so much.

and so what does one do to fix this? i suppose if you’re the one saying you need space, the kind thing to do is to clarify it as much as possible. why do you need space? what is causing you the need to retreat? how is the space going to help you? how much space do you need? for how long? what are the rules of engagement around this space?

and if you are on the receiving end what do you do? ask these same questions? that doesn’t work unless the requester is in the same mindset, if anything it is completely counter productive to what they are asking for.

“i need to talk to you less”

“okay talk to me more to explain why you need to talk to me less”

eugh… i don’t know. i don’t have any great revelations or insights here. i just hate this word, this concept, this feeling. on both sides of the fence.

what’s wrong with me

the first thoughts when i get up, the last thoughts when i lay down. it’s you. it shouldn’t be you. but it’s you. it’s always you.

today i told myself i wouldn’t do that. i told myself today i would be focusing on other things. i told myself that today was going to be good, and filled with things i need to do, things which make me feel like i am getting somewhere, things which make me feel happy, things which make me feel fulfilled. things that make me feel accomplished. basically anything but things which are you.

but there is only you. i’m afraid that there will only be you for a very long time.

“you’re only allowed 3 great ones in your lifetime, they come along like the great fighters, once every 10 years…”

k, k, a

listen – fools gold


It’s been a couple days
Since I’ve seen your face
I guess I’m trying to say
Home is a different place
Do you still think of me?
Do you still think of me?
‘Cause I still think of you
‘Cause I still think of you, fuck
(Whoa, oh, oh)
(Whoa, oh, oh)

I’ve got a lump in my throat
That started on the coast
I’ve got a heart that’s broke
And I’m not much different (Not much different)
I’m just so sick from it (I’m just so sick from it)
I hope those single nights alone
Are better than when I was coming home (Coming home)
And now I come back to an empty room (Come back to an empty room)
Guess it was all just too much for you

I hope it’s easier now
Without me
I wonder if you’ll notice I’m gone

It’s been a couple days
Since I’ve seen your face
I wonder how you’re doing
Do you still stay up late?
Forget to wash your face?
You’re still a beauty when you’re sleeping

I still have lonely nights
They’re exhausting when I can’t sleep
I feel you reaching for me
So I count back from ten
Hoping to see you again
But still be wishing you’d be better without me

I take it day by day
But I still feel the same
I wonder if you noticed I’m gone

It’s been a couple days
Since I’ve seen your face
I wonder how you’re doing
Do you still stay up late?
Forget to wash your face?
You’re still a beauty when you’re sleeping
Do you still think of me?
‘Cause I still think of you
Do you still think of me?
‘Cause I still think of you
(Whoa, oh, oh)
(Whoa, oh, oh)

Do you still think of me?
‘Cause I still think of you
Do you still think of me?
Do you still think of me?
‘Cause I still think of you
‘Cause I still think of you

It’s been a couple days
Since I’ve seen your face
I wonder how you’re doing
Do you still stay up late?
Forget to wash your face?
You’re still a beauty when you’re sleeping
Do you still think of me?
‘Cause I still think of you
Do you still think of me?
‘Cause I still think of you