Blog: Home

People refer to certain places as their second home and I realized that Flappers was my first home. It was the first place I ever belonged, the first place I was ever excited to be, the first place where when I walk in, people scream and run over to hug me. I always hesitate to go back, thinking this time it won’t feel like home and I’ll have lost — that.

The day that I put in my notice, I came home and cried for three hours. This came as a surprise to me because for weeks, I’d kept a crisis hotline open in one window while booking shows in another. Reconciling how much I love the art of comedy with how poorly I fit into the business of comedy is something that I still struggle with.

But, God. I don’t know how I can love so many people so much. And I really don’t understand why they seem to love me back. Sometimes I think I left before anyone could realize that I’m really not that special.

Brody Stevens killed himself and I don’t know what to do about that. I wasn’t a fan or a friend but I do know how hard despair can hit — even right in the middle of the happiest moment you’ve ever had. I was trained to never trust a moment of joy or peace. Every time I’ve ever felt like I was starting to get a handle on my place in the world, someone I love died — or asked me to kill myself.

People say polite nothings when we part, like “get home safe” and if I trust the person enough to be honest, I reply, “safety is an illusion”. Sometimes I’ve never been not a god and sometimes I’m a shrivelled, trembling guppy in a human suit.

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