Who, or what, I am

still whining?

Playing music live. It's the ONLY thing that truly makes me happy I realize. Everything else is shit. Nothing else is real. It is simply a necessity. I NEED to do it far more often. As it is I can count on one hand how many times I have sang live. And I don't know who I am when I'm not a MUSICIAN. I am not a worthy human being, I know that. Then why do I so strongly and so often shy away from oppurtunities to play?

from here, where I'm sitting. But that wuz a few hours ago. Now it's passed over my house, the blinds are closed, and I'm back in my insular little world. It wuz such a nice day today. I thought I should go down to the beach and just sit there. Or explore. It is so calming to do that. But I didn't.

And why, when I'm so ... well off, am I so fucking miserable all the damn time? I need, right now, the release that writing is to me. But I don't want to be so endlessly depressive. I want to see light. And BE light. Lite. I so badly want to be able to say what is on my mind right now. Exactly what is on my mind. But it involves people. I need an outlet for this, but this won't do. Voicing it here would be... abusive. Disrespectful. Complicate me this much. Whatever that means. Might as well smile...

DISCONTENTED I AM, AT NOT BEING. THE SUBJECT OF YOUR, OBSESSIVE LOVE. I lost the know how/ to be human in public.