Rabbit Hole

Sourcing an instructional video for persuasion led to me Joshua Bell which led me to watching violin conciertos.

That led to memories of many, many evenings in dark concert halls:
my short legs swinging from the seat, falling into the seat from folding and unfolding it a little too enthusiastically;
watching papa's back, his hands swishing back and forth, controlling instruments, voices;
going through mama's bag for candy, finding a pen, drawing on the concert program, breathing in her perfume;
falling asleep to that smell and the music.

That led to listening to Bach, Paganini, Beethoven, then Sibelius.

That led to remembering our dog, whom my dad named Sibelius and we called him Belly. But our yayas were Bisaya, so they called him Billy. And soon he wouldn't respond to Belly, so we all called him Billy.

He was a good dog. He died and we never had a dog again.

Back to work, then.

Sometimes

Sometimes, it's lonely.

And sometimes, I am especially aware of how broken my parts are. And then I don't know anything.

And so I stay away, stay hidden, stay home. Because I don't know how to tell people that I am just so lonely, so I'll stay away from y'all. Because I don't know if that will make sense.

I had plans today. But I stayed home. Because it's too much for me out there. And so I'm here, with my daughter, who has made up her mind to hug me the whole day.

I wish I were thinner, prettier, happier. I will die alone. I will die alone. I will die alone.

The thoughts have been racing and racing and racing for weeks now. I haven't been able to sleep properly. The meds make me sleep, but I wake up around midnight and then think and think and think and think.

Somebody told me very recently how happy my vibe was, how much I lit the room. I make everyone laugh and smile.

I'm worried, because I know I'm being manic again. Or at least I'm leading up to it again. So now I'm going to cry a bit. And be quiet. And write this down.

People like me, people want to be around me. I'm fun. I make people laugh. That's what the people are telling me.

But all I want to do is run away.

But I'll be okay in time for tomorrow, for when I have to be with other people again. It's what I do.

I wish I were beautiful. I wish I were invisible. But I wish someone would find me. Find me beautiful.

Sometimes, I'm lonely.