while you waste away with me

I’m going to tell you a story, but you have to try and remove what you know of me and what you’ve heard of the story from your mind.

When I was in high school, I had a teacher whom I adored. He was my teacher and mentor for four years. He pushed my high school musical career and saw that I had as many opportunities as I could. He encouraged me and challenged me and did everything a great teacher should. Then I found out his secret. He was having inappropriate relations with other female students. These girls were like me, in the fact that he pushed their musical careers and gave them numerous opportunities. He encouraged them and looked out for them, just as he had for me.

Did he look out for me because he wanted me to sleep with him? Did he praise me because I was actually good or because he wanted something out of it?

I’m a pretty decent musician, but that always haunts me. It has now translated into anyone who compliments me on my music. Are they saying those things because they are true or because they want something out of me? Am I really as good as they say or is there something else?

I’ve become obsessed with alterior motives. I don’t completely believe people who tell me I am talented. I question their reasons behind coming up to me and saying all these nice things.

Because of all that, I don’t want to date someone who likes me because of my music. I don’t want to marry someone who sees an oboist or a musician. I want someone who sees me, who gets me and who likes me for me, not for my music.

That teacher compartmentalized everything he did. And I slowly learned to do the same. But I am part of my music as it is a part of me. There are connections and relationships between everything and everyone. Psychology and philosophy go hand in hand with science and even economics. You can’t compartmentalize everything or even anything.

I don’t want someone to love me for what I do, but rather who I am.

I swear, I’m a walking paradox.

I don’t need someone to fix everything for me. I need to fix it myself. There are some things in life that although others may have the answer, you have to just figure it out on your own. What I need is someone who really understands how terrifying music is to me. I need someone who understands how scared I am and someone who will promise to protect me. I need someone to lean on when everything gets to be a little too much and I’m too scared to get out of bed.

I need someone who is going to understand what being bipolar means to me and all of my fears. I fear for my life, sure. But I fear for the children I want to bear. I’m afraid I’ll pass this on to them. I’m afraid I’ll be too crazy and too insane to be a good mother. I’m afraid of hurting my children and scarring them for life. I’m afraid of hurting my husband and chasing him away.

I need someone who won’t be chased away and who will cover my weakness with their strengths. I think that is why Manny and I didn’t work out, we have the same weaknesses and the same strengths. I need someone who will know how to walk that fine line between traditional and modern feminitity.

I need someone who shares my beliefs and faiths. I need someone who sees connections between everything. Maybe that is a “non-Chrisian” idea, but there are connections. Everything impacts everything else. I need someone who understands how the butterfly effect works and believes in it. I need someone who looks at the world with me and sees God within everything.

I need someone who understands how my bipolarism is both a strength and a weakness; how it is a part of me and nothing like me; how it is real and imaginary; how it is both a blessing and a curse. I need someone who knows the difference between drinking because there is a problem and drinking because alcohol tastes good. I need someone who knows the difference between my “Nothing’s wrong”s. Sometimes something is wrong and sometimes nothing is wrong. There are differences and there are signs.

It seems as time goes by and I get older, my “requirements” for a perfect husband are getting longer and more complex. If I had married at 18, the requirements would have been a lot less, alhtough I suppose to demands change with marriage. I believe divorce sometimes has to happen, but sometimes I think people use it as an escape and an excuse rather than actually working through the problems. When I say “I Do” it will be true and committed.

In case I forget, I have an audition coming up for a school I really want to get into. Mike and I are over, because I’ve decided its enough. He’s in Hawaii and I’m moving on with my life. I’m trying to figure out Justin (and Eric) and now there is Paul as well. And with Paul comes more complications. Paul is older than I and he’s done with his Masters (in accounting). He’s a part of a family that has been friends with my family for quite some time. He’s back in the area looking for work and somewhere to settle down and start a family. There are just a lot of things in my head, and its hard to sort them all out. I should really start writing everyday to keep track of what the hell is going on. Thats gonna be my new “resolution.” I’m going to write everyday in here, or as close to everyday as possible. Yeah, we’ll see how long that lasts……

Failed to see,
How destructive we can be.
Taking without giving back,
‘Til the damage can be seen,
Can you see?
Can you see?

The more you take,
The more you blame,
But everything still feels the same.
The more you hurt,
The more you strain,
The price you pay to play the game,
Then all you see,
And all you gain,
And all you step on with no shame,
There are no rules,
No one to blame,
The price you pay to play the game.

Apathy, the chosen way to be,
Blindly look the other way,
While you waste away with me,
Can you see?
Can you see?

The more you take,
The more you blame,
But everything still feels the same.
The more you hurt,
The more you strain,
The price you pay to play the game,
Then all you see,
And all you gain,
And all you step on with no shame,
There are no rules,
No one to blame,
The price you pay to play the game.

What you pay to play the game,
What you pay to play the game,
What you pay to play the game,
What you pay to play the game.

The more you take,
The more you blame,
But everything still feels the same.
The more you hurt,
The more you strain,
The price you pay to play the game,
Then all you see,
And all you gain,
And all you step on with no shame,
There are no rules,
No one to blame,
The price you pay to play the game.

What you pay to play the game,
What you pay to play the game,
What you pay to play the game,
What you pay to play the game.

Price to Play ~ Staind