Our Time to Dance

.... “You get to go home every night and put your head on the pillow. And you don’t need to think about your needs, your wants, your past. And all the stuff that’s really stopping you from becoming happy because you’re not fixing it. Instead you get to be entrapped by somebody else, you’re intrigued by them, your mind has someone new to spiral into and focus on. But I think sometimes when you’re focusing on that perfect romance you’re not doing the real work to fix the stuff that’s stopping you from becoming happy.”

28 January 2019

I’m listening to a podcast about rewinding and rewriting the past. Of course my mind strays to us, what happened. I’ve tried rewriting it, and perhaps it helped at the time. But I keep revisiting it, looking for something new. Some new piece of information that could make sense of it all. I feel I’m mostly past it, I’ve moved on and have a healthier mental outlook. But maybe it’s a little ‘t’ trauma that really will stick with me throughout my life. Anyways. That’s not the point today. Today, I’m thinking of the positives - looking back on past loves, past lives, and how it helped me grow and become myself. What are the good parts of all that mess that I can take with me going forward.

With you, I felt almost wholly understood and cared for. You saw my ugly moments, but also saw potential to be better. You had patience with me, helped me grow.

Some people look at me and see what they want, or see what I project, what I want them to see. You always seemed to see through all that. You saw me. Just me. As I was, and as I could be.

I need to see me like that more often.

I want to make you cry, scream,

curse the sky,

And realize we were made to die;

To love and lose was our demise.

Justice is served?

Ha. a fairy tale its not.

I feel I've been wronged,

And my blood is hot.

This trip to hell and back,

I thought I was burned

-until I returned.

A trip from the start I strongly regret.

For what have you lost

But perhaps some respect?

Where I've lost my best,

my friends,

my mind.

I know I won't get them back

But I'll still know I've tried.

And of what you've gained?

I'd say the same.

We played your game,

In ways you've won

But I in turn have gained my name,

my love,

my life,

a clue.

And the tables seem to be turning,

So perhaps the time for revenge and regret

Is too overdue.

For now I've got mine and you've got yours.

And although we still share ours

Like tug-of-war ropes,

As the days go by

Time -splits- the ties.

Now I live in time

you still live in space,

Directing your thoughts to a higher place.

Let's hope there's still hope

For time to erase

your face

From my mind.

10 November 2008

I used to cry when I got my hair cut. I hated it. I was so picky about it, and the hairdresser that my mom took me to never quite could do it just like I asked. One time, my friend tried giving me a trim while we were at her dad’s house, and she ended up taking two inches off. It was honestly nothing, my hair was already long so it wasn’t a big deal. I doubt anyone would have noticed. But I cried.

I’m not sure when I got over that. Once, I dyed the tips of my hair black, and once it had started fading I cut it off myself. My hair was a few inches longer than shoulder length then. But it didn’t bother me so much then.

The real time I noticed the change, it was a post breakup haircut. I had been thinking on it for weeks, months. I had scissors ready, and a box of auburn hair dye. All I needed was the courage. Luckily I found that at the bottom of a bottle of wine. I had some friends over. I put my hair in a low ponytail, tight to the back of my neck, and just started cutting with strong construction paper scissors. It felt so free, so liberating.

Now I think I’ve made it a tradition. Every year or two, I cut my hair off. I don’t plan it usually. I just let it grow - I still love long hair- until one day it’s driving me crazy and I know it’s time to chop it off. I usually decide while I’m drinking. That sounds risky, but it has worked out pretty well.

However, this last time I did it while I was sober. It took me three times, each time it has felt too long still. First I took of five inches. Then three more. Then about two more. I think I might keep it for now, it’s just shorter than my shoulders and mostly off my neck. Longer in the front than in the back. A friend helped me catch the wild strands that managed to dodge the blades.

Since I cut my hair, the number of times strangers have told me I’m beautiful has noticeably increased. Either that, or maybe I’m more aware of it because I’m sensitive to my new haircut. At least there’s glowing reviews, despite the uneveness of it. I’m too stubborn to go to a salon to get it fixed - I take pride in my DIY haircuts, as messy as they might be. Friends help me even out the choppy parts.

The other night, on my way home from getting drinks with some friends, the strangest thing happened. I was close to my house, walking on the main street about to turn and cross the street to head down the sandy side road. I noticed a car parked across the street as I was walking up, a man honked once and waved out his window, I squinted at him, trying to figure out if it was someone I knew or not. I decided not, since it was 3 in the morning and if I knew someone they would have called me by name. I crossed the street hurriedly, and luckily saw my friend Mamadou sitting in front of the Cosmetica shop. I glanced back and saw the man in the car get out and run across the three lanes of traffic towards me. I didn’t want to be caught in the dark road by myself with some strange man following me, so I stood by Mamadou and asked him to help me because I didn’t know the man.

The first thing the man says is, ‘Je t’aime, tu est très belle’ - I love you, you’re beautiful. I think my first response was ’no’. Just no. Not a chance, it’s three in the morning and you’ve just scared the shit out of me. He tried asking for my number, asked if he could take me on a date. No sir... not a chance am I giving my number to someone who tried following me in a dark alley at 3am. I wonder what grabbed his attention though... probably the obvious, the exotic pale skin and blonde hair (exotic for my current location, at least). It’s never happened before though... it must have been the hair.

I want your voice to be my lullaby

lying side-by-side, your hands around my waist,

your kisses on my face;

keeping me warmer than any blanket could.

I let myself drift off into delicate dreams,

just with the promise of waking in the morning

to your face, your taste,

the way you keep me close with your hands around my waist;

to feel your love, your hugs,

to hear your laughter.

You are what keeps me going day and day after.

So sing me sweet things, just by saying a phrase,

I will not fall apart but to past the return of these days.

But this is just another round about way

to say that I love you, and I need you to stay.

The rhythm of your breath On the nape of my neck

The tightness of you arms Across my chest

As my worn out hands, Yours’ caress

My lids grow heavy and I can finally start to rest.

As your fingers gently tap out a Soothing tone,

I realize how I love the way

This simple music can Seep Into my bones

To make your embrace, Feel just like Home.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

It’s on the edge of my lips, disguised as a kiss,

But you know I can’t commit these words to ink,

Or control my violent fits.

I’m in a limbo between love and lost,

And losing you will likely be the cost.

I’m telling you to take this as a fair warning,

or at best as a plea for understanding.

My head and heart are about to break,

This pressure I can’t take,

And lost seems the easiest route: to wait.

I don’t blame you, more I urge you

To make your escape while yet unscathed.

There’s not a chance I’ll make sense of this before it’s too late.

From the archive:

I feel like I’m screaming I love you I love you I love you out into a void, wishing it was a cave and that the echos would engulf me and love me love me love me back

New school, new city, new life with a broken heart and the ex-boyfriend as my best friend.... not the best situation to make friends. No one wants to befriend a lost, broken girl. Broken, and spilling over with so much anger and self pity it splashes everyone I get near.

Although I cannot begin to imagine to feel your pain, know that my heart aches with you. My entire body is tense with frustration at the helplessness, and my eyes spill over with angry tears. With every fibre of my being I wish I could erase the pain, make your heart whole again, and heal every wound.