I am so tired these days. I finished the book – all whopping 50 pages, and I know that I need to fill it out, round out the story of my life so it makes more sense, but right now I am just too fucking tired.
I have run out of iron, which isn’t a big deal except I won’t be able to buy more for a couple of weeks. I’ll be okay until then it’s just tiredness.
I am excited that in those two weeks I’ll be getting ready to start volunteering at CJSF part time. That will give me something to do this summer, beyond just dealing with whatever is going on inside my damned brain.
A lot of what is in the book is variations of things I have written before, and then I just added stuff I haven’t written about yet. It’s been hard, going through all the memories, remembering things I had previously forgotten, deciding how much to tell, and what I should hold back.
A lot of people have been asking me why I’m writing down the story of my life – why I want to publish it. My answer is the same – because writing is my catharsis, and writing about it helps me to unload, to let go and release what I’ve been internalizing into the world so I don’t have to hold onto it anymore.
Those same people think that I shouldn’t do it – that it would cause damage, I don’t think that’s true. I think that the people in my life who would actually end up in the book are so narcissistic, that in reality, it wouldn’t hurt them, but they’d get all dramatic over it in order to turn themselves into victims for attention. I honestly think that’s what they are most worried about.
Not one person has asked me how I feel about it, now that the hardest parts of the tomb are written, instead they are all focused on how what I’ve written will make them look, it’s actually kind of funny, and sad.
I’m not overly angry at them, there are a lot of shitty people in my life, or there used to be, they aren’t in my life anymore. Is it wrong that I can’t help but think they had the chance to treat me with decency and kindness, and chose not to so they deserve what they get?
Is it my fault that I was always the best possible friend I could be, and yet I was surrounded by selfish Narcissistic personalities at every turn? I’m not saying I’m perfect, I am by no means perfect and I have hurt people, I’m sure of it. However, the people I am talking about did a lot of damage, and the only way I know to escape from that pain is to write about it, to let it go.
So…one way or another I am going to finish this book, and if people get angry that their secrets have been included….I suppose they shouldn’t have fucked up so bad. I refuse to feel guilty because people I loved chose to take that love and abuse the privilege of it. I refuse to feel ashamed because the people I once called friend or family, decided they’d rather try to kick me when I was down.
No, I’m not holding onto to anyone’s secrets anymore, it’s literally killing me from the inside out, and no matter what happens when this book is done, whether I publish it or not, at least I won’t be holding onto the pain anymore.
Nope, it’s time to let go, it’s time for Devon to fly.
I’m on my way.
Devon J Hall