Okay, so I have to get my jollies somehow. I'm only slightly panicked about the whole performance to-do, the fact that we're supposed to pull a show of this level out of thin air in a matter of days while not neglecting our other responsibilities, although, let's face it, we have anyhow.
I'm trying not to be cynical, trying to remind myself that square one is just where I can to be. But at the same time, I can't help it. When someone's only civil to you when they've got one thing on their mind, and after a stretch of extreme unpleasantry returns to civility within 24 hours of a breakup, the alarm bells start to ring.
But I can still laugh. My laughter has taken a slightly psychotic turn of late, mostly because it stops me from crying. And after the fifth 12 or 14 hour day, you start to find the strangest things funny. Apparently I'm an honorary man. I'm taking it as a compliment. I wonder if this gives me license to belch? No one can say there weren't warning signs. Pneumonia. No one can say I'm the crazy one now. Well, except me, but that's because I'm the only one inside my head. I'm the only one who knows just how crazy I might be. This time, I'm the one in control. I'm learning to speak up, I'm learning to stand up and be counted. Practice makes perfect. Raising my voice, raising my fists.
I'm full of pipe dreams. Ideas that will never work in practice. But they're nice to think about.
Keep Dreaming.
Daydream Believer
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