It kills me. It really does.

I’m sitting here trying to assemble a website or something… the lines blur and so do the projects. There are so many reminders of how rusty I am at the whole process and how being out of the game for two years presents a challenge that is definitely more difficult then I thought.

In a few days, something big happens, and in a few days something big happens, and in a few days something big happens.

I’d say something about ducking and covering. Fight or flight, going limp, etc.

That has to be the biggest lie that I portray about myself. Being a giant coward that is completely afraid of life. I’ll swallow glass if it gets me where I need to be, the same goes with doing what needs to be done. Someone needs to be the clutch. One of the few things I’ve always been great at.

There has been many times in the past few days where I really wanted to sit here and type my heart out about what I’m internally and externally going through.

November is going to feel like a month of Sundays.

For all I know, I am supposed to move on the 8th. The hardest part about that is it makes everything so final regarding my past. The second hardest part is going back there to get all my stuff… there has to be a billion things that I’d like to say or do. I just want to get it all behind me.

After all of that is done, I have my pre-op testing.

A week after that they will cut me, the aftermath, I’ll be pretty much out of commission for a week.

I’ll be all better to remind myself that for Thanksgiving I’m not hiding in the old apartment avoiding families, playing videogames, and just watching the snow come down with the one who loved me.

The actual move has me more fucked up then the idea of having my flesh stretched, removed, and rebuilt. The near constant state of my heart coming out of my chest and nausea hitting me at random moments. That will get better, right?

People say you’re doing fine and you just need to be more positive, you have so much to be proud of and you’re an awesome person.

What people don’t know kills me.

It really does.

How I spend my nights and days now would pretty much make my old friends unsure of who’ve I become. It doesn’t matter anyways – when we all come to meet halfway – we’re different from whom we were before we started. Even if it can’t be seen by the naked eye the change is there.

Who is ever sure they’re doing the right thing?

My current goal is to make it through November, then the month after that. One day at a time and one month at a time. Someday down the road when no one is paying attention I’ll learn to be like them and someone will catch me by surprise and get their fingernail in cracks of my armor.

The dream is not dead and it just kills me.

There are a billion things I want out of life – there is only about three or so that matter. Stick around, someday; I’ll share them with you, half-drunk under the fairy lights. Falling about the place.

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I’ve spent the day listening to Múm and many other bands. There is something that doesn’t feel complete unless I’ve sonically injected myself with as much beautiful and emotionally tragic music as I can at any given moment.

The hardest part about quitting smoking these past two weeks is sitting in my car at night listening or when I take the long way home. There is some sort of trigger there, something with the heart just coming apart like a slowly cracked egg, that demands for me to slow down, find a different road, and enjoy one more smoke before returning to the real world.

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I’ve faded pretty much from sight; there are many people that have stopped talking to me regardless of my attempts (small as they may be) to continue on. We’re not responsible for the actions of others; I just hope they realize the truth of things.

There really is only so much Okkervil that is safe before losing oneself in the context.

I’ll try to keep posting here for the people that are keeping count and tabs.

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In closing: Recently, I was drunk and depressed, chatting aimlessly with a friend and they asked me what was on my mind and I told them: “Somewhere there is someone masturbating to ‘Fade Into You’ and someday I’ll find them and we’ll be together.” I didn’t care that they didn’t know who Mazzy Star was but I know I smiled the first honest and true smile in a very long time.