Bi-polar · Clarity

No, not feelings really. But an attachment, perhaps. 
A getting used to. 
It's like reaching for that place where you always put that thing
and finding it's not there. 
You put it somewhere else now,
and you can't seem to remember where that is.

Are biting and i don't know how to make them go away. 
The feet are beginning to scurry
hurry
I may need to leave
this soon.

On the hot days, we'll be in denim cutoffs and flipflops, eating ice cream from a cone as it drips down our sticky fingers. There will be bicycles, bubbles and lots of photographs. Strangers will become friends and though we don't speak the same language, they will still offer us wine and maybe some music. 

On the cold days, we'll wear a million layers of coats, and some embarrassing thermal underwear. Boots too. We'll make snow angels and laugh so much just so we can see our breath swirling out of our mouths. Hot cocoa with marshmallows may be cliche but who cares, we'll do it anyway, and by a fireplace too.

During daytime we'll buy fresh bread from the local bakery, and then discover thrift shops and little antique stores. Maybe we'll find history somewhere, and make it a part of our lives. 

At night we'll dance in the streets, bounce along with other sweaty bodies and inebriated lovers. We'll kiss and laugh and drink and be absolutely merry. We'll be much older, but acting like silly teenagers. No one will tell us to do otherwise. 

All these adventures will be our life, and our life will be one big adventure. 
And no one will ever tell us to do otherwise.

This desire does not fade, does not die out; it is so relentless. The fire in between these limbs aches and throbs and burns. What do I do? I cannot have what I want, and I want what I cannot have. 


(yet)


And so these things, they swirl around in the mind like fins in water. Snaking, slithering, writhing. They are everywhere, in every nook and cranny and corner of the brain. Of the body. Under the skin.


(not yet)


Breathing becomes heavy and movements slow, much like honey, lost in the haze of very late nights. So the wanting goes on, the desire keeps taking over, almost consuming every. single. thing. But the time is not here, the place is not now, and so we are left waiting.


(just you wait)

Soft, quiet mornings are so precious. The vehicles are not honking today, all they leave in their haste is the slippery

whoosh,

                                   whoosh,

                whoosh

of their tyres.

There is a soft scent lingering in the air, like a secret

w  h  i  s  p  e
                    r
                       ed

to no one

in particular.

I listen to it, hoping it unfolds into something my heart can grasp,

understand.

I bury my nose into your pillow. It's still warm from where you lay. 

Earlier this year I proclaimed that it would be a year of amazing things. And God has been so faithful in that. It's too early to recount just how freaking awesome 2011 has been, but I think it's about time to start proclaiming what 2012 will be like.

It's beginning to look like a year of international things. I've got one competition i'm auditioning for, and several trips already booked. Niki has never been out of the country, and next year will be a great eye opener for him, i think. It's going to be absolutely out of this world.

There is something about water engulfing you. The way it fills every nook, every cranny, and finds its way into places even you haven't been to. The quiet blue gives a kind of peace that I can't seem to find anywhere else. 

Inhale. Dive in. Exhale. One, two, three. Inhale. 

Twenty-six years and my life is still a blur. One activity after another, one detour, fork, dead end after another. I know God's got a plan, and I know if i keep walking towards Him, i'll find that i'm right where I'm supposed to be. But faith is never easy.

I don't know why people think that believing in God is the "easy way out". Nothing in life is more difficult than faith. 

Inhale. Dive in. Exhale. One, two, three. Inhale. 

This competition requires so much. Pain, strength, sacrifice, discipline. Do I really have what it takes? Can I really be as worthy as those who spent their entire lives training their bodies? They're going to watch us and judge. What if they don't like what they see? 

Inhale. Dive in. Exhale. One, two, three. Inhale. 

Sometimes, I wonder if he's ever going to ask. We talk of all these future things. Maybe right now, it's best not to wonder. Or to talk.

Inhale. Dive in. Exhale. One, two, three.

Recently, my collection of old CDs resurfaced. Stuffed into bags inside bags, i felt a childish elation as i pulled it out and flipped through them. Fiona Apple, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Daydream Cycle, Madonna, Blur, Neil Young . But what excited me the most were the compilation CDs, given to me by friends and past lovers, filled with the soundtrack of my college days.

I popped one in, and instantly recognized Smokey and Miho, Sebastian Telier, Lali Puna, The Jesus and Mary Chain. Some of my closest friends were in there, witnesses to my darkest days, and some of my most innocent, hopeful moments.

It's amazing how music can just wash over you and pull you under. It engulfs you and suddenly it's 2005 and you're wearing knee high socks. or 2002 and the first day of school. or 2006 and you're hearing the man you loved say he doesn't believe what you're feeling is real.

And so for a good 45 minutes I allowed it all to crash all around me. I relived heartbreaks and crazy adventures and drunken confessions. I felt them all. I had a stupid smile pasted on my face at the memory. Man. College was fun.

But eventually the music stopped. I tucked the cd back safely into its little sleeve. And along with it went all those memories, folding over each other like a worn out letter that's been read a million times. These things used to make me hurt, cry, cringe. But as i packed my old things up and prepared to walk out and into the arms of new days, i felt thankful for every single feeling, every single mistake. Nothing would be as beautiful as it is today if it weren't for all of those seemingly stupid things.

I can't redo anything, or undo my mistakes. But now, everytime i pop one of those cds in, i can at least see [hear], just how far i've come. And how things will, thankfully, never be the same.

So tomorrow we dance. Tomorrow I dance. 
I can already hear the orchestra as they prepare, the hushed whispers of the awaiting audience, the heat of the lights on my face. 

Five years ago, I longed to be a performer. And tomorrow I get to do that again, only with a different form; a medium no one ever thought could be done in a theater, with 700 people wanting to watch. 

I am both afraid and excited, nervous and ecstatic, impatient and procrastinating. My loved ones will be out there and all I really hope is that I give all that I am. That I cease to exist and just become the dance or become my partner's limbs. I pray, oh dear God I pray that we would be flawless. Perfect. 

I heard the rain fall today.

It slid down your face, and slowly followed the curves of your neck, your bones, your fingertips. i saw everything in slow motion, until it created an ocean in your hands.

in the darkness your footsteps echoed; and i could not see but i followed. i felt around, felt the tall, rough wall on my skin. i grazed along it until i bled, until i felt. i followed, i listened, i waited.

and the dark gave way to light, and onto a large soft meadow i fell. onto grass that did not cut, and sun that did not pierce. you were near.

i stood up and i looked up and i ran.

You were near, i knew you were near.

the clouds began to gather ahead, and it grew gray. the air started to get sticky, and i knew i was running on the canvas of our lives, my feet dipped in many colors. and as i ran, i created pictures i could never describe; so i ran some more just to create, just to fill it up.

and then i saw you standing, holding the rain in your hands. you raised them towards my thirst, and i bent down, parted my lips, and i drank.