I became liquid and poured myself out. When I met Jack on Friday, I said “my heart is unhappy” and became limp in his arms and he kept saying “why didn’t you call me (to tell him that my mum died) ? I would have come home earlier”. I feel special when I am with Jack and I have no adjectives for this man, except I call him, that he is a wonderful human being and he shall henceforth be called a wonderful human being. We sat in a French restaurant and I poured my life of past two weeks, out to him; how everything has changed and how I didn’t have a moment to get my breath back; how the change is for the better in some instances; but that change is still very very scary; Jack listened in silence and all he said was that I have to have eyes for only one person and that’s all it matters.
After I got home, I sat in my window, dangling my feet out and eating apples and talked to my cats about poetry and loneliness and the difference between being alone and actually feeling lonely. “there is no insurmountable solitude. All paths lead to the same goal: to convey to others what we are. And we must pass through solitude and difficulty, isolation and silence in order to reach forth to the enchanted place where we can dance our clumsy dance and sing our sorrowful song but in this dance or in this song there are fulfilled the most ancient rites of our conscience in the awareness of being human and of believing in a common destiny”. Pablo Neruda
I’ve been living in a haze and I don’t know what to feel anymore and I know it’s okay as I am used to this; it has to be okay; it will be okay; it’s always okay;
Dancing makes me happy. Ballet makes me happy. Went to my ballet class for the first time after a while last thursday, and my teacher commented on my boobs saying they are perkier and that whatever I’m doing, I should continue to do that. (for a ballet dancer, my body is totally out of shape as I had been on steroids for some years now). That woman scares me. She is so strict. She is a matriarchical old world Russian woman with an accent and she cracks me up when she talks but I dare not smile or laugh because her cane would land on my bum or at least I think she would do that. I like her rigidity. There is a young jewish boy in the class as well and one time I saw him in the mirror and he was wriggling and twisting and seemed to be in pain, so when we were on a bit of a break, I asked him ‘what’s wrong ?’ and he said ‘well, I’m wearing a thong and it’s the first time I’m wearing and I’m all uncomfortable and how do you guys do it ?” I wanted to laugh out loud and laugh hysterically, but well, our teacher was right there and so I laughed very silently and got all hot and red and my body jiggled with all the peels of laughter. I avoided looking at him in the mirror the rest of night, which was very hard to do as we are surrounded by mirrors, as I was afraid if I look at him I would burst out laughing; my teacher kept saying “Shanthi, look up and not look at the floor” for the rest of the night. On another time, the same boy was wriggling again and I thought oh no, it’s his thong again and I said to him “you look like you are doing Drake’s dance to “Hotline Bling” and he went, “I can’t believe you got that as I thought no one would get it”. Well, color me speechless…. I can tell you this much, when I first heard the song, Hotline Bling, I made up my own version of dance to it and well Drake’s dance to that song was…. Ugh, I don’t know what it is.
In my brain I kept saying goodbye to someone I really care about, when all I want to say is hello, hello, and hello. The weather is changing, it’s a bit cooler with a certain kind of warm and there’s the storm Hermine is supposed to come up or not but I am planning to clean my room this holiday weekend, while blasting some Jazz and may be salsa dance with my broom and twirl myself into a tizzy and may be say “I love you” to all the things I love and fill up my heart full. Something needs to change, and I have kept writing about how I want to change and I want to exhale and stop holding on to this version of my life and breathe out and get out my mind which trapped me into this mood. I want to wring myself out of all the tears and hang myself up to dry.
I’m so comfortable and feel secure in my melancholy and I am not sure if you understand this at all. But all I knew is sadness for the past decade and half now and it is a wonderful feeling to wallow in my misery and melancholy. I am sort of panicking to change this attitude.
But I am rehearsing in my brain. Mapping out my exit and tracing my steps. I want to get out my bed, open a window; smile at the people who are walking their dogs and not hide behind my curtains; I want to go into my garden in the daylight and look around the neighborhood and wave at my neighbors; I want to wear my prettiest dress, and twirl; I want to pour out my love to the world and not be afraid of rejection. I want to appreciate the good things and good people in my life who understand me. I want to say hello to a never ending Spring. I want to relax and not have my hands knotted into fists. I want to give my darkness a break and breathe…. I want to feel alright.