Headlights.

The good things come to me in small flashes. The drops of water hitting the light as one of the producers threw water on the audience. The energy in the room as my favorite song was performed. The hand on my shoulder followed by the comment “I’m glad you’re here.” The feeling of my hand disappearing when the drummer stopped to shake my hand and introduce himself. The offer of champagne and Cheetos. Stepping off the curb and into the street with my favorite performer by my side after a quick, two sentence conversation about jaywalking. The headlights of cars shining on us as we walked across six lanes of traffic after the show to get to the bar. The small scream that came after someone saw a possum outside, followed by a quick statement about how they were freaked out by them. A deer walking in someone’s yard the next morning. The butterflies going past the window, stopping by the rose bushes outside.

The bad things come to me in large waves. The first near-collision after being picked up from the bus station. The second near-collision exiting the parking lot from where we got lunch. The glare I received after I was invited backstage, and being left behind when I said “no” because I didn’t want to leave the girl we joined up with since she was alone. The panic attack I had during a song that I normally love. Walking out of the venue to call a friend because I felt the urge to relapse. Being told to leave the venue by security after the show because I didn’t have a VIP stamp after you told me that you didn’t want to ask to put me on the list. Walking alone at night in an unfamiliar city to the car because I had nowhere else to go. Crying on the steps of a shopping center because I felt abandoned and invisible. The thought that it would’ve been better for me to not be around at all. Trying and failing to save my phone battery since my charger was in the car and we were in the bar longer than planned. Sitting alone at a table because by that point I had fully shut down and couldn’t do anything anymore. Being told “I don’t like butterflies. They creep me out,” after I tried to share the small bit of joy I had the next day. The knowledge that I had been fooled into thinking that someone actually valued my presence and time.