6:06 p.m. - 2006-01-08
And so i'm sick.
We are what we pretend to be. It occurred to me today that I'm already that girl spinning around, headphones on, heart beating in tune with the music. I'm already there. The difference is, fantasy is happier. Idealizations don't allow room for disappointment. I can spin forever, but that doesn't mean everything else will spin with me.
Focus on what you can control. Focus on what is in your hands; in your reach. Don't focus on what else there is.
The air smells like smoke and something burning, but it feels more like the staleness that comes out of onesided conversation and sickness. Tongue coated with lies. Head dizzy with lack of sleep and all the paranoia that comes with it. Sickness? Yeah.
Tonight has rhythm. Can you feel it? And if you can, will you dance with me? Oh won't you? Hips swaying, back and forth, feet unable to stay still. Now turn. Now spin. Now dip.
There's a scent on my clothing that I should recognize, but my eyes are too far off and my mind is in a fog that not even the most tormenting of rains could erase. It's difficult to know people in this state. I've spent hours staying awake and trying to ease a pain that is universal, but to no avail. I'm constantly losing this battle. But it's really not so bad. That's teh thing about being teh one spinning in a circle of everyone standing still, if I keep my eyes locked on something, i won't fall down, I'll just...keep going forever.
I wake up to snow outside my window. Lightly falling, making me want to feel better, but I don't. Cloudy head, foggy. Weak and stomach muscles in pain. The night swallows the trees and act I is finished. The characters rush about the stage and make it look so real. But the curtains are closing. It's intermission.
Don't be afraid to take a bow.
