Fools, Friends, and the Great Beyond
Tom Jolu
Tour Journal: Day 1

Tour Journal: Day 1

Day 1:

CW/TW: Suicidal thoughts, Suicidal Ideation

    The water ripples as it flows beneath me, reflecting the city lights. In these lights a multitude of people –  45,140 to be exact. Our city is small in comparison to some, but just to think of all these people living their complicated lives. Maybe someone’s crying in their car, ‘cause after years of trying to make their relationship work, they realize that no matter how much work you put into something that means so much to you, it has to end. And in the next bar over, someone is laughing with old friends they haven’t seen for years, remembering the time they went to a house party and hid all of the homeowner’s cereal in their freezer. Then there’s me: my fingers beginning to freeze up in this early spring weather, writing in my notebook for fear that if I stop writing, that it’ll be the push I need to see what’s on the bottom of that river.

    The truth of it is that I want it. I’ve wanted it bad for a while now. Ever since the death of my mom I haven’t been the same. ‘Course you never leave unscathed when you’re that close to death. So, I worked myself to the point of exhaustion for years and thought that if I didn’t think about it, everything would be okay. But I’ve caught myself standing still here and there, just long enough to realize the weight of it all. I can take that though, the weight of this depression. It’s not hard to get used to, but with enough time you can get used to anything. 

But now after getting fired from the job that was keeping me busy, along with my music career that was once filled with friends and tours across the country, changing into a solo project with only one poorly booked tour and a few new songs, the weight is on top of me and I can feel every ounce of it.

My brain has been spinning in circles, and that’s why I’m here. Or at least that’s how it started. Watching these two rivers that flow through our city has, in times of stress, in times of love, times of worry, doubt, pain, happiness, celebration, given me peace. As strange as it sounds, I’ve learned by just watching the river. Seeing it continue to change while staying the same has shown me something I want to see in myself. But right now that river that was once a place of peace, a place to find my center has become something altogether different. Below me there isn’t a teacher or a counselor. Below me lies a siren beckoning me down, hoping I act on impulse.
  
  I’m scared. I’m scared that I’ll act on impulse. I’m scared I’ll listen to the voices that have been screaming inside me for years wanting an end to all this pain and anguish, and that’s why I’m writing right now. The pull is strong on me right now, but my hand, the one that has written in every dive bar and fast food joint down the Atlantic, the one that has heard of countless heart breaks, the one that has seen grown men cry on the body of their best friends, is stronger. I know that’s not much, but I don’t have much of anything anymore. All I have are these songs. But maybe that’s all I need.