(btw i mentioned a dream with reference to an assault and talk about feeling crazy. heads up 7up) 

had a legit nervous breakdown on thursday.

i woke up like i normally would, but i could feel it in my bones that it was going to be a hard day. i made it to work, and in the middle of my first haircut i started to feel a migraine coming on. my eyesight started getting all funny.. i finished my cut, and the one after it. and they were fucking gorgeous btw. and then i went home to try and fight off the migraine. i couldn't. i just sat in different places all around my apartment and panicked. it was fucking horrible. all i could think about was all the horrible things i've done in my life. i was like, unraveling 31 years or terror, instance by instance. it was... a lot. after HOURS of chaos, i started to get ready for a show. i kept looking at myself in the mirror, and i couldn't see me. i just saw the bags under my eyes and this like, idk whose eyes i was looking at. i felt like i was on drugs. then cella came over and helped me realize that i was in no shape to finish putting on my bald cap and going to a club. thankfully. i just sat on the floor and cried, while she tried to tell me how i really was, but i couldn't hear it. finally, i started to come out of it. but i still had one foot in the "i'm worthless garbage" door.

it's like for 15 years i was just drunk, and didn't deal with anything i said or did. i mean, i know that i grew and evolved and positively impacted the world around me during that time. but i also masked a lot of myself, i hid in hangovers and treated my anxieties with booze. and now that i took the booze away, it's like all those little monster are knocking at my door. liiiiiiiterally had dreams that there was a man knocking at my window last night, angry with me because i told the family that he was climbing a tree with, that he raped the girl who lived in the room before me. he was pleading with me in all kinds of calm and rational ways to stop telling people, to go back and tell the family that i was crazy and lied. then, at the bbq next door, his friends were rolling their eyes at me. like, "yeah we know, but look how he dances slow and off beat. he really loves cheeses".

anyways. i thought the hardest part of not drinking.. would be the not drinking part. but as it turns out, that seems to be the easiest. it's all these feelings that is the hard part. mmm excpet for this very moment where i just gave myself a wetty thinking about bourbon sliding down the back of my throat. IT'S ALL THESE CHER DAMN FEELINGS! it's looking at myself for real, and being disappointed. looking at my behaviors and being disgusted.

interviewer: jillian gnarling, you’ve done so well for yourself. accomplished so much with your life, how does it feel?

me: what are you even talking about? all i’ve ever done is interviewed myself.