This summer, I missed having a dark side in my life, thinking I needed it to feel loved and alive. But now that feels at least a million years ago; that sad despair has lost its tenuous hold on me, a grasp it only ever had because I was mistaken about its primacy. After I say prayers of gratitude tonight, I will fall asleep knowing that even though my life may never again be easy, it will also never again be filled with anger and contempt and loathing. Call it willingness, call it acceptance, call it surrender: I am looking inward, and I have made the choice to leave that behind. Tonight, perhaps for the first time ever, I know I’m going to be okay.
The Twilight Sad show tonight was yummy. I went with R. — who, being relatively new to town, had never been to the Empty Bottle — and drank Shirley Temples with Crayola-red grenadine and plump maraschino cherries. We stood next to the speakers, and the pulse of the vibrations reminded me that I’m alive despite myself. The show wasn’t anything special or complicated or particularly ground-breaking, but for the first time in months I was able to just be. There was no risk of conflict or threat of disaster or walking on eggshells or fear of what might happen. There was no anxiety, no tension, no drama — I was there for the music, for the companionship, for laughter, for conversation, for acceptance of the moment, for the feel of the bass pushing through the air and onto my arms… I was there for me.