When everything feels dangerous, it gets hard to move. When I look to my right and my left, all I see are forces apt to destroy me and delight in my destruction. When everything feels dangerous, the only question I return to again and again is, “How can I disappear so that I’m harmless? If I’m harmless, they’ll all ignore me and forget I was ever here.”
When everything seems dangerous, I don’t dare say a word. I’ve claimed to be a songwriter, but songs are dangerous and I keep asking myself, “What is safe to say in a song?” And the answer whispered to me is, “Nothing. Nothing is safe to say.”
It’s also not safe to pick up the guitar, it’s also not safe to talk, or go out, or feel things, or admit to feeling things, or to be seen feeling things, or to ask for help. When everything is dangerous, even my own brain and heart are not to be trusted and so the good news is that nothing is safe when everything is dangerous. At least we’re consistant, right?
Call it fear? Shame? Deep clinical depression? Totally. I’m already on the meds and working with a therapist but there’s only so much modern science can do for broken brains and hearts.
People have been asking me about upcoming shows, but I don’t think I can. Perhaps I never will again. I bought a dream guitar and am wondering if I was cursed in buying it and maybe if I got rid of it then I’d feel better? Can a nice guitar be included in the “Everything is Dangerous” category?
I know I’m trapped in a box. I’ve been in this box so many times that it’s not super special or exclusive anymore. I also know I won’t be in this box forever, but also, I feel like I have not mastered getting free after all these years. Like looking through a glass encumbered, I can see the landscape isn’t as I FEEL it is and yet, perhaps it’s dangerous to try and break free.
There is familiarity that is formed inside the box of fear and shame. It takes a lot of effort and help to get out- and asking for help is dangerous. Sometimes I say, “love is the answer.” But when I’m in the box I’m convinced that love is just pretend and this box is the answer.
It’s a real bummer. I’m a real bummer. Don’t worry, I can see how this is dangerous.
It’s dangerous to say things and write things. It always has been. The truth is I’m trying to get out of the box. I’m hoping this might help. I’ve heard that if you turn the lights on, sometimes you can see that there really aren’t any monsters lurking.