Tuesday Bluesday

Today, I am depressed. And that's ok. I am thinking about Damien and how he isn't here anymore.
I'm thinking about the more than one time he told me to stop wishing my life away...to stop counting down to the next thing and enjoy what's before me right now. I don't do that enough. Damien lived an amazing, full, rich life. He didn't waste his time being mad, or unhappy...he went after the things he wanted with great gusto and positivity and was thankful for the things he'd already been given.

But I am depressed. Because he's gone. And because I'm standing in a life I don't want and never thought I'd end up with. And I have to change that. I'm just not so sure how.

I spent a lot of years on Chris...years I would never trade and never change. For all the bad, they were good. They were magic. They are all my amazing memories...some funny, some crazy. I don't regret any of it one little bit. I'd do it all again.

I'm furious at Stewart right now. I mean, I shouldn't be, but I am. I furious because I thought he was the home at the end of a long journey. The place where you finally put your feet up and rest your head, and know you are safe and loved.  Last night he said that "the timing wasn't the greatest" for my friend to be murdered...because HE is too busy to deal with my pain right now. I was floored by that comment. I mean, this is not a man that would ever or could ever be depended upon. I know it, and I knew it...but I'm still floored.

I feel lost and floating again...and just maybe a little mad at everyone, myself included, for never taking me into account. For passing off the way THEY think things should have been as more important than what I wanted or want for myself. I'm 35 and I'm nothing...and my life is nothing...and  it seems like it was all so exciting and glamorous and it WAS...but it was always just me running away because I felt so fucking trapped by everyone's expectations of me.

I had the most amazing 3 days in NYC last week. I felt better than I had in so long. Everything in the air felt so full of promise and possibility. Is it too late for me to be what I wanted to be when I grew up? Is it too late for me to start at the beginning and still have the life I wanted?

Sometimes it feels like it is. If I try, though, I know I'll succeed. It's just taking that step out the door and into the unknown.

I'm going to have my own fucking adventure now.