This.

Alone on New Year’s Eve

Streaming Netflix from an uncle’s account; in the suppressed darkness of a small home. Substance abuse—with the TV “chill”. Fireworks outside. Silent pain within.

invitations. community. family. friends……just not tonight.

I couldn’t fucking let the auto-play move me onward to the next episode of CROWN. I had to write. This.

This, because it’s reality—a counterbalance to a bunch of rosy landscape-adventure photos on Instagram; or pride in my brother’s comedic-writing / producing / hosting career.

Why is this night different from all other nights?

It’s New Year’s Eve, and I’m alone of my own doing—while families, friends, and community members gather in the streets, homes, restaurants, and on frozen lakes. This desperation and depression are of my own creation, my actions for leaving California; leaving my immediate family. Leaving Oregon, and my close-friends from university. Moving to Evergreen, and not Denver (the city). And ultimately, “running” because of my personal monologue, the demon that says “Jeremy, you’re not good enough”.

The funny thing is… I know it’s not true.

I know it’s not true because I’ve been to therapy, I’ve climbed mountains, and traveled the world. I have friends, family, invitations and community — just not this night.