I need to be asleep. I should be laying down and have my eyes closed.
But I'm afraid of the world tonight. It happens sometimes.
I'm a pretty happy guy. Almost all the time. I think it disgusts some people. And it's not a facade. But that doesn't mean I'm not unhappy sometimes. Or scared.
I'm not depressed. Just like I'm not truly an insomniac. Insomnia and depression are very real ailments, and I suffer from neither. But I'm sometimes very sad. And when I am I often can't sleep when feeling this way. In some ways, I'm terrified.
I'm terrified about letting my kids be in a world where I'm not with them all the time. And it's not a matter of distrust of their mother. She's a good mom. And she and I love share a love for our children that is very deep and very powerful. She wouldn't let anything happen to them just as I wouldn't. But I don't trust the world. And the horrible people that sometimes populate it.
I imagine that somehow my presence around the children will shield them from the horrible people and events. It's irrational. But it's what I feel. I know Adian feels the same way.
I'm terrified that all the endeavors I've taken on are going to fail. That I'm going to be nothing. This is also irrational, especially considering how much I'm trying to get everyone else to see the light of what we are doing. Because what we do here is great. The work, the film work, is spectacular and getting better. This is truly something special. And it's about to take off. I'm not psychic. I don't believe in that nonsense. But I can read a situation. I'm very good at reading situations and people. So much so that I often find myself acting out so I can see where a situation will lead me that might be different from the norm. But I've seen where things are headed. And all we need is a bit more time, and a bit more out there for the world to see. And it will start to happen.
Still, almost a year after the fall out over the creation of the podcast, I'm terrified of failure. And I'm scared of others pointing at me, accusing me of betrayal. That wound still stings. It's almost been a year and it still stings to be thought of like that. It's like they forgot everything I said, the ideas I had, the fact that they took my ideas as their own. Well, he did. She did not. What's worse is I don't even care about who had ideas or didn't. I don't care that several eyewitnesses almost two years ago recall me suggesting the very idea that I would later be accused of stealing. I don't care about any of that. I care that I lost friends for no reason. I hate things beyond my control. Failure that I couldn't do anything about.
I hate how much I can't control. I don't want to control people. I don't want to control free will. I just want to make sure that the good things that can happen do, and the bad things that can happen don't. I know that's what everyone wants. I know that this lesson is all too often learned the hard way; our lack of control and how we must deal with it. But I love stacking the odds in our favor.
This is why I shouldn't write late at night. This is why I shouldn't blog when I'm this bummed out.
I wish my friend Eugene was here, too. I miss him. I miss him more than he knows. I hope he's doing okay. Because life without him sucks. Life without my children sucks.
Okay. It's time to stop writing this before I go into complete self-pity mode.
Because I need to be asleep.