There’s not a whole lot of people in this world that I concern myself with pleasing. I would love for my parents to be proud of me, but I don’t live for it. If they are, great, but for the most part, I have to make my own way. I know I do a lot of things that they’re not happy about. I’m sure they’d rather I’d still never been to Tijuana. My dad would like for me to spend far less time in bars. My mom would prefer if I would listen to her dating advice. (How does she always know that they’re bums long before I do?)
There’s a short list of people who I’d like to see at a show I’m playing, as I look out into the crowd, beaming at me the way I’ve beamed at them so many times. And if everyone else says we suck, well, I can live with that just fine. In fact, I’m looking forward to people hating my band. That’s just another part of being in a band, from what I can tell.
But for the most part, this life of mine is not about what’s going to make anyone else happy. I hope you’ll understand, and you won’t take it personally. Sometimes I’ve just got to do what I’ve got to do, and sometimes that means going my own way or doing it alone. I just can’t always be around people. That’s just not who I am. I can’t be that woman. I have to breath, and I have to feel like I can cut and run at any time. I probably never will, but when I’m tied down, I start to get nervous. I have to have an exit strategy and a contingency plan at all times.
Like I said, none of this is personal. It’s not like I’m running away from someone in a particular. I just have to know that I could. I have to check my bank balance three times per day and calculate how far and how long it will take me. I just have to .
I know this could come as a shock to those have been reading about my non-stop escapades, constantly going out and needing to not be alone. I did, however, say that the day would come when I would swing in the opposite direction, and it seems that that day has come.
And this doesn’t mean I’m depressed, or that something is wrong. I hate it when people jump to that conclusion. Just because I want some time to myself does not mean that anything is wrong with me. If anything, this is a sign that I’m one step closer to my own version of normal. I need to be independent.
And if you don’t like it, well, there’s not a damn thing I can do about it, and even if there was, I probably wouldn’t do it anyway. It’s not that I don’t care, but if I have to chose between making myself happy and someone else, I just have to chose myself.