Circles and spirals in The grotesque metamorphosis of a Bi-Polar human into a Tri-polar monster.

  • Nov. 27, 2017, 3:38 a.m.
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“Now I have to show you some circles before you could get a good grasp on one of my full fledged spirals.”

I’m starting to get to the point where I am feeling like I am strong and I don’t need alcohol to numb me out anymore…

…and then I get off work and on the drive home my soul begins to sink into a pit in my stomach, upsetting it, making me throw up a little bit in my mouth, and since I’m driving I have nothing to do with it except swallow the bile and pretend my mouth and throat aren’t burning.

I’m not okay.

My dad sent me this text today while I was at work:

“Love you Dane. I’m very impressed by your ability to press forward to the end. I think if we quit, we are destined to come back to the same or similar circumstances until we work through it. I am happy to be here now, helping in any way.”

I’m fucking blessed.
I don’t know why I didn’t get to have a father while I was growing up, but I’m glad I get to have one right now.

One of my best friends just got into a relationship for the first time since we have been friends, and I got to meet her last night and she’s pretty damn cool. I’m super happy for him and I’m super proud of him for being such an amazing guy. He’s quite a bit younger than I am, and I always forget that we have that age gap because he is probably just about as mature as I am, if not more so, and he’s someone I use as a barometer to measure the awesomeness of other humans.

The only problem with her is that her ex husband is a cartel member…so…I mean…I really don’t want Alex to get his head chopped off. Which, as I write it I realize is kind of a funny sentence, but also as I was writing it I realized that that’s a very real possibility and it becomes sick and scary…

A year after my nephew was murdered, an artist in my community that I had just recently met and very strongly looked up to, was murdered in cold blood.

I don’t think I can handle another person in my life being murdered.

OKCUPID

I guess I should talk about my online dating life, haha.

I’ve probably sent out like 20 messages, and I was getting nothing, getting nothing, getting nothing, and then FINALLY I GOT A MESSAGE BACK!

AND THEN I GOT ANOTHER ONE!

But then I was replying to their messages and I started getting some pretty gnarly anxiety about the whole thing, like…“Everything I am writing is stupid and superficial and this whole thing is dumb and I want to talk about deep shit, this is stupid.”

Meeting people is so fucking difficult…why can’t everyone just be cool and open and easy to talk to? I don’t get it. What’s so fucking hard about that?

“Hey human!”

“Hey, yourself!”

“Hay is for horses!”

“Hahahahaha, you’re funny, let’s get married!”

BOOM!

Done.

Yeah…so now I’m listening to Post Malone.
What’s up with that guy anyway?

I wish I had more to write about, and more to tell you…but I feel like if I was to open up the entire contents of my brain right now it would wash all of your thoughts in stark black ink and we would both walk away from this experience feeling bad about ourselves and life in general.

I’ve spent so much of my life wishing that someone would just understand me…wishing someone could look at me like a Rubik’s cube, except they know all of the secret moves to make my colors make sense again…because it’s all just an algorithm, you know?

Except I’m not made out of stickers and plastics.
There is no algorithm to this puzzle.

I’ve spent so much of this last year grateful that most people can’t see me and understand me.
I don’t want to inflict that pain on anyone.
I don’t want to know that anyone has spent times in the darker recesses of the human psyche.
I wouldn’t wish my mentality on anyone.

I think that’s why I got my glasses and started dressing as nerdy as possible…so I could fly under the radar and not be seen for a while.

Anyway, I think I’m done.

I love you.

–Dane


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