Reflections Redacted

Trying not to feel sad. Yesterday was trying and failing. Today is better. It was a really important day for me. A really intimate day. I reserved the space months ago and I couldn’t be prioritized? I have to come to terms that I will never be a priority. Is it because of Saturday? I didn’t want to be there Saturday. That was for someone else. To bless someone else. The only reason I was there that night was because of the band. And yesterday finally came. Not a word. A monumental moment. I had to go 25 miles before some strange relief. That feels bad. I just felt so sick and stupid. I didn’t tell anyone about this. Not even my family. I thought I only needed one person. I had so many difficult painful negotiations about the logistics of spectating. Fined for canceling lunch reservations from weeks ago with less than 24 hours notice. Everything in me wants to just keep to myself and close off for a while. I wish I was a resilient person. In every way. But I’m not. I shouldn’t have made it such an anchor in my mind. Now the memory has nothing shared in it. Unhappiness. I’ll feel better in a couple days. Then I’ll feel bad about these reflections, remove them, and detach again. Knowing me— these are the things inked on the pages of my journal. Until I rip them out and put them in the shredder, as is my practice. Maybe that’s where they should stay. Do I want to be understood?

Do I want to be understood?