And the things you can't remember tell the things you can't forget
That history puts a saint in every dream. (Oh Mr. Waits. When I listen to your music my soul is reborn. )
I am the queen of band aids. I thought about this as I taped up almost every crevice of my feet this morning before rehearsal. I dance around on these contained disasters of limbs all day. I come home, make dinner, review, all with the white tape covering what I can clearly feel is underneath it but have no desire to actually deal with. Then late at night before bed I spent time peeling away the layers until I can see the pain just as much as I feel it. There I am infected, gross, dirty, used, callused, torn and beat the hell up.
I do the same thing each day lately. I wake up look at my calender and prepare for a good day. When my car girls ask me how I am I say "wonderful". I choose not to chat about the negative in the car ride to work, instead happily drink my tea and read the news. I make it a point to say a loud chipper hello to every member of staff when I walk into work. I smile. I giggle. I find ways to joke and make the day brighter for anyone that stands next to me. I try hard to compliment my friends when they dance brilliantly. At lunch I tell stories. I act like a fool. When people say things about events of last year on tour I make jokes, as if, none of it ever hurt me. I make jokes about being terrible at boys. I put things in the category of "I never really cared". I choose the tunes that we have our daily ice bath sing-a-longs to...
Then I come home, lay on my bed and when I stare up at the ceiling my head can only wrap itself around how I have allowed so many amazing things to turn sour. I can only remember the perfections of others. I can only see the imperfections in me. I strip away my layers of protection, just like my tape, and I am left with the open sore that is my heart. It fucking hurts. It hurts for everything. The world, your world and my world. It hurts for the things I never said, the things I should have said. It hurts for the ones I let get away and the ones I never let get close to me. It hurts for the person I want so badly to become and how exhausted I am of giving myself daily pep talks. It hurts from pumping life force into this body that does not know how to take a break. It hurts for the lies I have told and the lies I have accepted. It hurts for the way it all turned out, and the way I wish it would have turned out and the way it might have turned out if I just learned to relax. It hurts from having the power to inspire everyone but myself to live better and be nicer to themselves. It aches for the universe to give me what is next...I have a restlessness that I cannot seem to control.
Maybe it is time to take all the tape off, take a day off and lick my wounds instead of just covering them up? Seems to me that the easiest solution is never the answer.
