I have a performance coming up, and it has been highly recommended (see: do this or you’re dumb) that I journal or otherwise map out what the piece means, what each motion signifies, where it’s going. Who is the audience? What are they to you? What should they get out of it?
So I thought about it. A lot.
And the only way that the piece makes sense to me, that allows me to get to the emotional level I need, the vulnerability involved, is to think of it like I’m writing out a blog post and the audience is you, the lovely readers. It’s a place and a persona that I feel safe leaving bloody and ruined and exposed. To be completely honest about what I feel, and what I want.
So, that’s what this is. The blog post that the piece would be. I apologize if this seems entirely nonsensical. If it’s confusing. Movement sometimes is. I like to think of it the completion of a sentence when you no longer have words. Movement is truth – harsh, brutal truth. And converting that back into words is difficult.
But here goes anyway.
I’m looking for something.
I don’t know what, until I see you.
But what are you? You are grace and effortless movement and flow and…so many things. So many things I want to be and am not. Yet.
But maybe I could be – will it be that difficult?
Yes. Yes, it is. You are confusion and a mess of patterns and shapes and nonsense. And my body doesn’t understand how to react to you. How to handle what I am pushing it to do because of you.
I’m trying not to falter. I’m trying to be beautiful. I’m trying to be all the things you need me to be.
And I’m breaking, and trying not to show it. But I’m falling apart, and you know this. Know it far better than I do.
Everything hurts and I’m a tangle of broken pieces, searching for something that doesn’t exist.
And I can’t walk away from you, but I don’t belong with you. I don’t deserve what you could make me, I can’t handle what you will ask of me. But goddammit, I want to. I want this. I want this more than anything in the world. I will give up everything for you. For this feeling. To fly with you.
I need you like a drug, I am desperate for your validation, for this feeling of undeserving to finally end. To be satisfied, just for a moment, that it was enough.
You call me back to you when I am weak and unworthy. You are waiting for me to pick up where we left off.
So, we’ll try again. I am trying to be all these things that I am not, and you’re trying to help in the only ways you know how. Because I have to work with you, not against you. I have to embrace you and love you for what you allow me to do at any given moment.
You are what I long for, and can’t reach quite yet. But that won’t stop me.
And when you break me for that final time, because we both know you will, when you do cast me aside, I will be grateful for the journey.
But for now, you and I, we can fly together. You will hold me, and I will cry into your shoulder. You will tell me I’m not enough, not yet, and I will try harder. And we will create something together, that might not be beautiful, but it will be ours.
And for now, I suppose, that has to be enough.