Curiosity Killed the Cat

I'm missing a good show tonight because, in all honesty, I don't think I can handle it. I want to go, but i don't trust myself quite yet. Last time I saw him play I unexpectedly burst into tears. I wasn't sad, I was mostly just surprised by my own reaction. It came from deep. Like a sucker punch to the gut. Some buttons got pushed that were long forgotten. Conditioned Response.

I spent some time with the idea of going tonight. It made me feel sketchy. I just want to hear some good music, and i don't want anybody to think anything else. I hate that I don't think i'd be okay if that's what I chose to do. I can't fully explain it. This whole topic is way past the point of carrying much emotion for me. It's dead skin, ground into the rug, washing down the drain. But I know it's not so far below the surface, I guess. I don't want to be surprised again.

I'm not resentful or hateful or bitter, i can't even relate to that but I would have a hard time holding my head up high in that room... and just a little bit sad. I understand tenses better now, and chapters. I am resigned to the past and history. I feel out of place in that context today. Awkward. Foolish, a little. Not ready.

Bummer though, because it would be a great way to cap the weekend. Sunday night Serenade.