I am unsure how to start this, and less sure that I want to.
For those of you who are worried, I'm fine. For those of you who don't know why anyone would be worried, don't start, I'm fine. I am a very practiced escape artist and this is just another trap I'm wiggling out of. I think I have a breakdown or crisis of some kind once every four years or so, I'm pretty much right on schedule.
I left Denver because I am hurting, and your kindness makes it hurt more.
I grieve like a monster. It is a self destructive process and very painful. I get pretty physically banged up and I get that it's not fun to see happen. Moreover, I can't do it around people. The only person that could be around is gone now, and that's good for him. Not to sound like a martyr, but I wasn't good to him. The fact that him being gone hurts so much isn't a great reason for him to come back to me.
I have never intended to put personal things up here, but occasionally it leaks in, and until I figure this shit out, I guess that's all that's going up. I don't know how funny or insightful this will be. It's just going to happen, like a memoir in real time.
These are things I don't know how to talk about and I don't know what order to talk about them in. The end of this story is how I left Denver, and I'm unsure where I am going but it's unlikely to be another city. I want to go somewhere quiet where I can be alone. I want to go to the place where I watched a spider make its web for hours.
I'm not sure where comedy's going to fit into this. I'm not quitting but I am away for awhile. I don't really know what to do with that. Standup has been my compass for a long time but I just can't bring myself to it right now. I need to be withdrawn and figure out how to decipher all the pain I'm in. It hurts so bad I don't even know which part of me is the source. I'm withdrawing so I can nurse it back to health.
I'm not really sure where the beginning of this story is. I have to frame this like a story because I'm not sure how else to do it. It contains things that are very big to me, and the only way to make them conceivable is with very simple language. There isn't a lot of room for analysis for me, but there is a bit for the start.
First things first. I am, no matter how mature I may seem, mentally a child. I can't take care of myself well, and we could delve into reasoning for that but at the moment I don't think that's going to go anywhere. Here are a couple things about this mental child you need to know:
1. I am intelligent, but more than that, I am extremely thoughtful. I am also a very practiced listener and can ascertain patterns quickly.
2. I am relatively attractive, particularly for how society views intelligent women.
3. I am a woman.
These are all things that I do not like to admit about myself, the second in particular. Growing up, these were not things people said to me for fear (and rightly) that they would go to my head. As I got older, people started treating me like an attractive and intelligent woman, and how silly it became for me, because no one mentioned to me that was why they treated me in such a manner.
I don't like to admit these things because they are my advantages. Not everyone has those advantages, and it's not something you can necessarily rely on. Your advantages do not define you, but they help you proceed through life. Never the less, I have them, and to pretend that I don't really doesn't get anywhere. False modesty was a favorite tactic of mine but it started becoming ... I don't know, false. I am an excellent liar but at some point it becomes difficult to remember what's true and what isn't, and false modesty certainly doesn't help separate the two, and you will understand this more as I tell you what I am trying to understand.
I am telling you these advantages because they have helped me to become the person that I am, and the person that I am does not handle kindness well. I am disturbingly ill equipped. When I got home from Chicago and saw the smiling faces of friends, hugged you tightly, told you what I'd seen, I had never felt colder. I wanted to start screaming. All the encouraging and sweet words people say to someone who's returned made me feel sick. I'm not entirely sure why. It gave me an idea as to why Jordan and I became so distant. He could be kind to me and I would feel absolutely nothing. I would be an asshole to him and I would feel in love again.
By the same token that I don't handle kindness well, I also don't behave particularly kindly to those I am closest to. I am something of a bully, and I think this is a habit that intelligent people tend to form. I am an emotional scientist, and I conduct inhumane experiments on my loved ones so I can understand how feelings work, because they are confusing and intricate to me and I don't seem to have them at the times they are appropriate to have. Because of this, I can be perceived as somewhat masculine, because I am not particularly expressive; it's not that I'm not emotional, it's just that until I test how other people have feelings, I genuinely don't have a model for how to express them.
This is where being female is an advantage, because men, for the most part, can simply tolerate shit being flung at them a lot better than women, who are more inclined to move out of the way. I have been very cruel to a lot of people just to see what would happen and they let me because they don't see anything bad on the horizon. Little do they know that I am very good at hurting people, and I am looking for ways to do it, even if not imminently. I used to write poetry, which I've been leafing through and realizing that I have been very aware of this problem for a lot longer than I'd like to admit without ever really dealing with it:
"Like a bullet I ripped through you, turned your feelings into meat, because that's the only way I knew to get close to you."
This tendency to be cruel, to desire to be cruel as a way to be close to people, is typically what I refer to as the Kokadrille. It both is and isn't me, but personified as something else, it has been a lot easier to deal with, and it is delighted in my decision to run away from home, it has a lot it wants to talk to me about. If I really have been going through the stages of loss, I've been stuck in denial and bargaining for the past nine months. No wonder Kokadrille feels ready to hatch right now when I need anger and sorrow the most.
This will take awhile.
About A Blog
I'm a Denver Comedian, occasional cartoonist and person of interest to someone, probably. These articles are really too long.