I’m an island living on an island made for two.

October 25, 2015
It’s happening again. I don’t know what triggered it. I don’t know what caused it. It just came and hit me by surprise.

It started after I got home from a reunion of sorts last night. The friend from high school that I’ve been hanging out recently, Nina, and I hung out at the house of another friend of mine from high school. I had fun. Got out of my comfort zone. Anyway, I got home later on and it hit me again.

Maybe it is a culmination of sorts. A ton of things and thoughts and realizations have been weighing down on me the past week. It wasn’t an uneventful week by my standards. I kept busy. There were events and situations that were supposed to keep me level. I went to Rem of X278’s sorta birthday gig Wednesday (more on that later.) I attended and shot Hans Dimayuga’s EP Launch Thursday (more on that later.) I once again documented Reese Lansangan’s recording session (more on that later.)

Those events, the situations in those events, were supposed to make me feel good. To specify:

I got to talk to Rem at X278 and he mentioned that Slapshock (a band that I was so into in my high school years) and one of the bands he’s managing are going to be touring the US soon and that he’ll recommend me as one of the photographers. That’s huge, right? If the universe was oh so kind, I’ll be a touring band photographer. I’ve only fantasized things like that. But even with that news, a supposedly good thing, I still can’t feel it. I still can’t feel the good.
It’s been happening a lot recently. All these good things are happening to me, yet, I can’t feel them. I’m supposed to. I tore down my walls already, didn’t I?

Another event was Hans’ EP Launch. I was having one of those moods again. I was having another anxiety attack. I shouldn’t have been. The music was great. Reese Lansangan was playing. I had a gig buddy that night. I was shooting. There were free beer. But I was still feeling like shit. I don’t know what brought it on, to be honest. I have an idea, but I can’t pinpoint the exact reason why. The night wasn’t without a saving grace, though. The mood disappeared when Hans hit the stage. He was amazing. He had a full band with him so the energy, the music, was a lot different. In the moment he was up there and his music was on, I felt good again. The mood came back afterwards. Not as heavy as before his set, but it was there.

And Friday. I documented Reese’s album recording session. I wasn’t feeling myself that day. Maybe it was the sun that drained me of my energy? (the recording session was from afternoon til the evening.) It was supposed to be a good day. I was watching Reese do her magic. My favorite song of hers, “Bleed,” was being recorded. Ling was there. All I kept thinking about was that I didn’t belong there, that I wanted to go home and curl up on my bed. Didn’t, of course. I had a task to do. I soldiered on. I got some pretty good (colored) shots though, so I guess it wasn’t that bad.

Fuck. I just gotta own up to it. I haven’t really let my guard down. I still don’t feel what I’m supposed to feel. I’m still conflicted about actually immersing myself, diving head first, into the emotions. Those voices that say “just let it go,” “that’s nothing,” “that will pass,” are still there whispering in my ear. Yelling. Screaming. I still hold logic in high regard. Feelings are illogical to me. Feelings don’t make sense to me. Nothing makes sense to me anymore.

This can’t come at the most inopportune of times. I have a gig on Wednesday and I can’t be distracted. I can’t be in this state. I can’t feel helpless. I can’t be a prisoner in my own mind.

It’s just fucked up that right before I went to sleep this morning, I posted on my social media pages that I’m taking a month long sabbatical from music photography. Meaning, I won’t be going to gigs. I won’t be posting music related photographs. I won’t be covering Reese’s recording session when I’m asked to. It was an impulsive decision that was made in my current state. It’s a decision that I have to commit to.

Maybe the break would do me good. Maybe it would make me worse as I’ll be isolating myself again.

The Birthday Blues came exactly a month early. Fuck.

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