Blog Post: What Is Truth? (Patreon)

Right now I'm in Charlotte, North Carolina, sitting in quite possibly the worst Motel 6 I've ever been in and having a mild existential panic attack.

Since September 24th, I've been in the company of others 24/7. Preceding this, I had been living alone for about 9 months and had reached a point that it was no longer debilitating depressing entering an empty/quiet home or terrifying to turn the lights off and go to sleep. I had actually started to enjoy all the private time although I missed having companionship. Then the tour started and I had companionship again but I totally missed having time to myself to do whatever I felt like doing without being concerned about how it might impact another person. 

By the time I dropped Justine and her boyfriend off in New York (the boyfriend had joined us for the 2 cities before New York), I was so burnt-out from thinking about myself in relation to other people and acknowledging other people, I had pretty much gone mute; I simply didn't have it in me to engage without feeling resentful anymore. 

I was guilt-ridden for essentially feeling like interacting with my friends and peers was a chore that I started drinking, a lot, to counter my lack of enthusiasm. This was kind of good because it helped me get out of my perpetually guarded state but bad in that it probably gave my companions a false sense of my normal personality. 

Anyway, after looking forward to some time alone, I'm finally alone and it feels... AWFUL. Just walking to the bathroom in this motel room makes everything feel so empty. My life feels so... purposeless all of a sudden although I know it isn't. Weird how things work-out, huh?

I think this group of feels correlates strongly with my romantic life; I miss being in a relationship but I know jumping into another one would make me a whole other different type of unhappy. Then again, its been almost 2 years I've been alone and I'm worried I'll never feel "right" with someone again and it's deeply upsetting the one time it felt "right" it was with someone that was a terrible person... and I still fucking miss him unbearably.

Maybe I'm just never suppose to be content? Perhaps, I'm a cat; pet me, don't pet me, until I die.

Someone recently asked me if I felt like anyone really knew me and, the more I think about it, the more I truly believe no one does but I'm not really all that upset by it because what is it to know someone? I mean, I'm not even sure if my perception of self, the self I would want people to know, is even correct or worthwhile. My current circumstances show, at the very minimum, that I clearly have no idea what even makes me feel comfortable.

Photo by Jacs Fishburne.