Wanderer of the Void

Hi.
I'm Leisa.
It's been a while, hasn't it?
A long while.
My last blog entry was a rant and it was over on another one of my blogs that I had forgotten even existed. This entry isn't a rant....and it's firmly placed on a familiar writing platform to me. This is more automatic writing of no particular eloquence, breaking rules of spelling and grammar and sentence construction.
Once upon a time I read the blog of a woman and her four daughters who, after an unspeakable tragedy, wandered from place to place, exploring, connecting, re-organising their lives into some form of random structure. I used to envy them, wishing I could just move around from place to place, not needing a base but just free to move wherever the wind blew, connecting with new people and places and things only to move on again.
Be careful what you wish for. It may come to you....but not in the way you imagined and not in the way you particularly like. I've been moving around from place to place for a number of years now and it's not fun. It's not exciting.
I am surrounded by so many beautiful people who I adore. I am performing and being sought after to work with. I am creating. I am being paid to do what I love. Sometimes I will do it without being paid because I love it so much. I love the adrenaline. I love the feeling of creating something. I love the feeling of co-creating something. I love even the feeling of talking about possibilities even though those possibilities may never happen. I see more shows. I engage with more art. My mind is open to new things and experiences. I challenge old ways of thinking, formulate new thoughts and ideas.

I am so fucking lonely I can't stand it any more. I look down the barrel of a future I never imagined nor planned for and I am filled with terror. Absolute, white hot, soul crushing terror. I long for the end but lack the courage to follow through. I've done 18 years worth of therapy only to come out with an outcome I didn't hope for.

I divorced a person I still love. Do you know what that feel like?

I fell in love with someone who I knew right from the start would never stay. I was ok with this until I was forced out of the easiness that was us by someone who saw and still sees me as a threat.

I hate with a passion I never dreamed possible. It's so intense that it both terrifies and excites me.

I look in the mirror and I don't know who I am anymore. The characters on stage feel more safe to be than the one in the mirror. They are fierce, confident, assured, loved, affirmed, safe. The one in the mirror walks home in the dark on her own, gets into bed alone, rises alone, eats in silence, works and does it all again the next day....day after day after day.

The skin hunger has reached an unbearable level. Do I still exist if I am untouched? It doesn't feel it. I resent those that say...."but in spite of all the problems and trauma I still hold them and fall asleep." That fuels the hate. I pay to be touched. I pay for it. Shaitsu. Thai. All above board. But I hate the fact that I have to pay for it....and the hands doing it don't know me at all....but anything for some kind of grounding. Anything that tells me I exist.

I don't think I do really. I am simply the product of some higher beings insane imagination.

I'm also starting to hate the letter S at the end of words. There's a reason for this.