I look around the room, and see an all too familiar setting. A mess of boxes and bags, stuffed again with the little I have remaining, the things that I still hold onto – hoping someday for a home, a place to put them where they might stay. It’s been far too long.

I frequently wonder if somehow I am destined to always keep moving, never truly having a home that I can entirely feel comfortable in, always encountering some problem or another that prohibits me from resting, doesn;t let me firmly plant my feet anywhere. A hundred places I can stay for a while, but nothing panning out, ever. Nothing that I know is mine, my sanctuary, that I can keep for more than a few months. Forever wantering, forever intruding…

I don”t know, it’s just a thought.


A familiar and frustrating sense of loneliness and defeat today. Forgetting who I am, what I have done, what i am capable of. For the longest time I’ve tried to keep as positive of an attitude as I can, knowing that’s all I had – the most important thing I could possibly hold onto in order to make all of the possibilities in my life the days happen – but then someone comes along, and with a few simple words completely takes the wind out of my sails, leaving me adrift, silent – empty of the enthusiasm and excitement. This person has known me for a while. Do they see things that I can’t? am I just another foolish dreamer, forever knowing the possibilities but never able to reach them? Is that how they see me?

Is that how I should look at myself?

Fuck it. Try to ignore it. Try not to let it get me down. Try to find the entusiasm again, the light. Hop on the bike, and go turn in the application for the apartment, now filled with doubt instead of confidence, thinking of everything that can go wrong, trying not to accept that it will.

trying. Put on the game face. Pretend again. You’re good at it, remember? Nothings wrong. Never let them see it. Same old happy fucking Casey as far as their concerned.

Upon arriving home, I get a call from Kameron – she’s just got hired at the last second for a gig in jackson Square, and the agent I’ve been wanting to talk to will be there. Last thing I want to do is leave the place, but I need this. Change, grab the stilts and the fire equipment, put on the game face and go. I need to meet him.

Got there, had some fun – stilting in Jackson Square, breathing fire a bit, and having the room to practice with my staff. It felt good to do a bit with Kameron & Andrew, but still, underneath is the worry, the stress of not being able to find a home, of not being able to make this work.

I get home, and just sit in the darkness for about an hour, exhausted, wanting to feel anything but that so I feel nothing again.

Nothing is always safe.
Nothing is better than that.
Nothing is what matters, and right now,

Nothing matters.


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