Tuesday, November 12, 2013

Dear Buffy,

Hey hey hey! Oh man that was all the energy I had. Time to go back to bed. Buffster, what am I doing with my life? I so desperately need a purpose, a calling, a destiny. I need to be chosen. I watched the episode last night where Giles fucked with your powers all secrety, and I remember Willow asking you, "if you don't get your powers back, then what?" That's kinda how I feel with comedy. If comedy isn't my destiny, who am I?

I almost cried when you were like, "If I'm not the slayer, what do I do? What do I have to offer? Why would you like me?" And then Angel said he liked you before you were called, "Because I could see your heart. You held it before you for everyone to see, and I was worried that it would get bruised or torn...."

And okay, that's a little cheeseballz even for Angel, but I still like it. I feel like that. Take away the writing and the stage presence and the comedy and the nerdiness and the work ethic, "and what's left?" "me." Without it all, all I am is a big throbbing heart, oozing my emotions everywhere. That is one of my favorite things about myself, that my heart is so vulnerable and accessible to everyone who needs it, so on display to any audience. My vulnerability is one of my best assets as an artist and friend. But it's also the thing that drives men away so quickly. It's the thing that gets me hurt with friends so easily. My feelings are so sensitive. I'm super vulnerable and that's my greatest strength and weakness.

I don't know. I'm tired. No I'm not. I miss you.

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