bravery

i know that i am stressed out because i am having dreams about catching planes and losing keys and abusive relationships and trying to mask morbid ideas. i only have one reader, and he might not even be a reader, and this blog could already be corrupt. i am trying to learn how to be brave.

i sent a pitch to an editor out of my league yesterday and am anxious like most people get about dates. i hate the sick flourescent noise of the place i work. i hate that i am too poor and busy for comfort and that comfort would destroy what i want to do. i hate that i am not sure whether that is true or i am just saying that so that i can justify being a fuckup.

the night that i broke up with andy, i was sitting outside and some woman i barely knew had a Big Talk with me about my drinking and self-worth. she had been a prostitute and drug addict but now she was a sitting-pretty queen sort of woman with long juliette hair and a big round body. i think that i am always thirsty in a chronic kind of way. i keep waking up in the middle of the night to examine my flaws. i didn't know how to explain to the woman that i am co-dependent on alcohol at this point because the wild and toxic next-day feeling is the way that i am brave and it is how i tear open the voice and that it is impossible to access or if not, hard enough that i do not know how else to look, it is like asking someone to kayak sober off of a waterfall. i don't know whether i will be able to do this but have bet or spent everything. maybe i will be able to do this but i am not sure.