‘ME’ was a name to an ensemble that looked effortlessly pretty yet was so strangely uncomfortable, like a little black dress you wear on occasion that is now too tight, the once caressing lace now only scratching your skin in dizzy waves of anxiety. From a beautiful delusion of grandeur to a real life minimalist tragedy. From a frantic pace (work.school.play * repeat*) where sleep was for the weak to out of sync steps that seem to extend forever towards a mind grown too full – pushed me out of all games – a weak one too was I, sad realization.
Appearance always a liar – I say
lie it must, otherwise what to do? My fake smile stops halfway, my words reflect the emptiness that inhabits this deprived body. My rehearsed laughter is an octave too high or low, but can anyone tell? They don’t know me – only this phony replica, except for a few.
Now… the ‘ME”ensemble is becoming a protective layer, like a sexy 2nd skin wearing lace that caresses my anxious wounds. A tragedy turning surreal and grandiose in flickering waves of hope. With every step, my body starts to synchronize in fluid choreography. My mind expands, and so does my soul. I accept my weakness and within that lies my strength. Not where I desire to be yet – but on my way, after a delay too long
to withstand. I slip back and fall hard, so devastated. Then I move forward. Those are the hardest steps to take, right after the fall. I get to show off the ‘ME’ ensemble: not every day, not a long time – but enough to guide my way until ME really is back. Then, MYSELF will be one with ME, the ensemble nothing but a form fitting black dress, with lace.