Thursday, April 13, 2017

The Exestential Crisis II: All That Glitters

So after my near mental break early in the year, I managed to tuck all of my feelings back under my hat after a conversation with Daisy. I appears that these emotions are starting to seep back out. Undeniably Pete's death had a bit to do with where I am now mentally and emotionally, but truth be told, whatever I'm going through seems to be bigger than him.
The day started normally yesterday. I went to a job fair, with no real expectations. As I got there, I walked around, seeing what may work for me. I was happy to find a couple of school districts located way out, which would allow me to live in solitude, as I've been seeking. After the job fair, my colleagues and I went to lunch. As the conversation rolled on to different topics, I told my friends how much I'd like to just flee to a small country town and be free of the simple shit that we experience here. Eventually an impromptu intervention began. My guy friend in the crew, Cliff, went on about my horrible selection in men and how given Pete's substance abuse past, I should have known to steer clear. I reminded him that the fact is that Pete was actually never bad to me. He treated me well and we had a great time together. Yes, he had a past with heroin, but I have never regretted his friendship.

Another friend chimed in that ever since "ya know" happened (I'm not quite sure why his death became unmentionable), I've been in a funk. A third friend commented that it is quite strange that after only 5 months of friendship, I've grieved as hard as I have. As the questions and comments rang out, the tears started falling again. I simply said "I don't know why or how things happened! All I know is that I miss my friend!" Seeing my response, my friends backed off. Thankfully the topic eventually changed, but as we got ready to part, my friends assured me that moving far out is just something temporary in my head.

Little did they know that I've been over this shit since way before Pete's passing. I'm kind of perplexed at things right now. Ironically enough, I feel like Pete would be the one person that I should be talking to because he'd understand exactly where my mind is. I feel like white people are allowed to feel like I do. They're allowed to be over it all and flee and travel and be over simple shit like Instagram models and whatever rapper they're fucking. I feel like black people are supposed to want to move to Atlanta and do brunches and drink mimosas, and hang in fancy black circles. On the other hand, just last night I sat at a presentation given by the Lowery Institute, sat in a room with plenty of well-established people, and sat in on a photo op as the pantry I started was given $5,000. Stuff other people strive for, I live. And I want to give it all back, just to have a simple life. This damned sure isn't what I bargained for.

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