Rough night

And then there are the days when tears fall despite facades, despite determination. Tonight was one of those dreadful moments. I don’t want a hug because I know how quickly I will shatter. I don’t want to speak because I know there is hurt in my voice. I want to scream. I want to rage at the unprofessional power-tripping assholes that arbitrarily manipulate my income.

I’m frustrated. I try to conduct myself in a thoughtful and professional manner. Sometimes I don’t know why I bother. There is no incentive to not be a fuck-up. In reality, fuck-ups often get more work. Egos are a dangerous thing.

I am thankful I have friends in this industry that understand, and that on a Friday night I knew exactly where to turn. I knew they would accept my frustration, offer hugs and reassurance. Smudged makeup and quivering voice I drove the familiar blocks. Away from the pretentious illusion of business, through the streets of crack and homeless, I drove straight to the comfort of real people. It helped.

But it’s late and I’m ready for bed. My heart is still heavy, and I know there are more tears waiting patiently for a trigger. I’m lonely. Tonight, I wish I could call and have the comfort of humanity. I want someone to hold me. I want someone to massage the stress out of my muscles, and tell me I’m special. Tonight I wish I was more than an object, more than a disposable fantasy. Tonight, I want more. At the end of the day, I always go home alone. Tonight, I wish someone cared.