Talked to the guys last night. Talked about how Kellie is my whole font of confidence. How I thought I was a big dog, I thought I was the cock of the walk. And how now I'm deflated. Who is there to tell me I can do it? Who's there to say she believes in me, to pick me up and dust me off and send me back out there?
Trey said, "She said those things because she saw something in you. She wouldn't want you to lose that, to just stop living."
Because she saw something in me.
So now when I feel low, I can think of her voice saying, "You can do it," and "I believe in you." And I can be strong again.
100 billion galaxies, and counting. Algae and the humans that eat them. I know, now, that I'm just this scrap of flesh and consciousness, blown around by forces I'll never know. But I can still feel good about myself. Because another scrap believes in me.
And I believe in you too, Kellie bear. Whether you're out there living or onto something I don't quite understand, I believe you're so awesome and badass that if anyone can hang, it's you. And I hope you come back so I can tell you that face-to-face.
Things are gettin better.
I'm thinking about moving back to Beaumont. It's a small and boring town, but I have family and friends here. Not to de-value the friends I've made in Austin, because they're strong. But it's hard to replace a bond that's ten years old.
Austin is a big and wonderful place. I can find any location in it, I know the back-streets. I'm learning Spanish, I like the people. But it's not home.
I asked the guys, last night, to go to Austin with me so I could have my friends. Trey said, "I can't follow where you're going, John." This is weird, Trey's usually very tacit and reserved. And he was, like, biblical last night. They all seem to agree that I have some kind of big destiny or something.
I don't understand that. I feel so small. I don't understand why everyone believes in me.
I really don't understand, what it is I'm supposed to do.
But I don't want fame anymore. It's empty. I want meaning.