And it comes to a head…

Rachael and I rented the movie Greenburg tonight.

By all means, we had a really good night…

But I have been trying to suppress that part of the brain that is trying to kill me.

The movie, over all, was not impressive.

Nothing about it was anything I can really relate to…except one part.

The main character was a musician, and he broke up the band because he declined a record deal.

…then something in me snapped.

He had a conversation with one of his former band mates about breaking up the band.

When I was seventeen I was in a band that was getting to be very successful in Salt Lake City.

I had moved there a few years before this, and we found ourselves winning every battle of the bands we were in.

We had won studio time, we had won money, and we finally ended up winning a spot on "the big ass show"…a festival put on by the big alternative station here.

I met all the people that worked at the station.

They all loved us.

In the mean time, I was seventeen…doing enough drugs to kill a fucking elephant, girls wanted to be with me, guys wanted to be around me because I had drugs and women…I had all these "friends" that couldn’t give two shits about me.

We were getting played on the radio, we were getting a lot of attention…

And one night, after smoking a bunch of crack with my band, I headed towards home…the freeway came up, and I decided to get on it and head to my dads place in Southern California.

I didn’t tell anyone because I didn’t know I was going to be headed there in the first place.

I hid out at my dads house until The Big Ass Show was over.

The radio station tried to contact me.

They found a replacement band…

This was all right after The Used had just made it "Big" (they actually opened for us once before either of us started to get noticed.)

…

I came back finally.

But people were pissed.

It was my brain trying to ruin any happiness I might have.

…

 

Right after that I started Dane and the Death Machine.

I moved back to California, I made a new band.

I played my heart out and then I got a second chance.

We got signed by a label.

Later, another larger label bought us out.

But I just couldn’t stop ruining my chances for success.

I just kept doing drugs and drinking myself into a stuper to the point that my band couldn’t even tolerate me…except for my guitar player at the time who I had convinced that drugs were great…he was a really great guy before I got ahold of him.

The record label dropped us.

After the crack, booze, and OC became too much to bear, we decided that Salt Lake City would be a good and clean place to get our heads on straight.

That’s when Heroin showed up.

To make a long story short, we lived together until one day I came home to find my guitar, movies, music, and video games pawned.

He had the decency to spare my recording equipment.

I was stuck in a two bedroom apartment by myself, and a girlfriend who I should have never been with.

She didn’t live there, and she is not a bad person, but we were so sick together…

Fast forward to two years ago.

We had sponsorship.

We were making close to $500 a show.

We had a music video made.

A professional EP.

It seemed like I had a third chance at this whole thing…

But then, because I am not allowed to ever have what I want, it all fell threw…

…

Tonight, for the first time, I told Rachael about the part of my brain that wants me miserable…maybe even dead.

She said it makes her sad.

The fucked up part, is just being with her is the happiest I have ever been in my life.

Even if taking care of her daughter is hard.

Even if we don’t have a lot of money.

Even if we don’t see eachother that much…

And yet…there is this part of my brain that is telling me she is going to leave me.

I am not good enough.

Either I will fail, or she will find something better.

I told her the real reason why I drink so much.

I never fit in with all of the rehab programs I was in, or AA, or Detox because it seemed like all of those people were drinking or "using" compulsively. Like it was something they couldn’t control.

The way I have always done drugs, and the way I continue to drink is something completely dileberate.

I need to shut up that part of my brain that is trying to ruin me.

Because it never fucking stops, and it never fucking shut’s up…but if I can get to a state of delirium…then I can at least drown it out.

And every so often, drinking, or drugs, is just not enough…I don’t do drugs anymore, but the drinking becomes not enough, and I really can’t fucking stop it from screaming at me that I am horrible, and worthless, and selfish, and the biggest fucking piece of shit the world has ever seen.

 

The really fucked up part is that I know this part of me is lying.

I really do.

But that doesn’t stop me from believing it.

haha.

And I don’t think I’m crazy because all of the medications I have taken haven’t stopped it.

If I was crazy, at least the anti-psychotics would have worked, right?

So…I guess at the age I am at now, and all of the experience I have…I just need to ride it out.

Because sometimes it does shut up.

But still…

It’s telling me she will leave me.

She will find something better.

I will fail at anything I try to better myself.

She will see how big of a fuck up I am.

She will realize she has been in love with someone else.

She will cheat on me.

…

And the really REALLY fucked up part, is that it tells me…when she is gone, I should just kill myself because this is my last chance at happiness.

 

I’m not looking for sympathy.

I’m not trying to say, "woe is me, no one will understand…"

But, I mean…FUCK

It makes me feel like I’m not normal.

It makes me feel like I don’t belong.

And it drains all of my energy just trying to ignore, or fight, or prove it wrong.

I don’t want to drink the way I do anymore.

But I’m afraid to stop.

I did it before and it just made it all worse.

And I have tried so much medication.

I dunno…

I know that if I just ride this out, it’s going to die down for a while…

But I also know it will come back.

It’s just like, FUCK! How long can I keep doing this, you know?

I even hate the fact that when I look back on my entries it’s all "happy, sad, happy happy, sad sad sad, happy happy happy happy happy, sad sad."

I don’t have any middle ground.

And I can see the world around me as this giant grey area.

And I think so many people are so retarded for seeing everything in black and white.

And then, interna

lly…there is no grey area.

And I know I’m not Bi-polar because they already tried medicating me for that.

And I don’t think I’m multiple personality or whatever.

I don’t even think I’m crazy.

I just don’t get it.

…fuck.

The only thing I know, is that I’m twenty Five and I’m already worn out.

I don’t want to die…at least I don’t want to kill myself.

But I don’t really want to do this whole life thing anymore either.

I just don’t know what to do.

 

And even writing this…I wouldn’t know what to do with sympathetic notes from strangers.

I wouldn’t know what to do with insulting notes either.

I don’t even know why I’m typing all of this.

 

…and the fucked up part is right now I’m not even drunk.

This would make a whole lot more sense if I was.

…

fuck.