Ghosting

I remember the inflections of your tone and the slight lilt to your accent. I cant quite place where that lilt sits buts its there. Stuck somewhere between Texas and Chicago, unfortunately my US geography isnt good enough to pinpoint the exact elevation on a map. If you asked, I could probably repeat every conversation we ever had, like a dictaphone. You wont ask. Sometimes I question whether or not you remember I exist. Sometimes I find myself questioning this myself? Do I actually exist? Based on peoples reactions to me, I find it hard to believe sometimes. My phone doesnt ring anymore, no blinky light signals a text message I missed while going about my day, my emails are all spam. Six months ago, this was never the case. But then, six months ago people cared. I stare at the computer screen flipping through online photo albums. There are countless pictures of you and our other mutual friends, but not a single one of us. I feel like Ive just popped an artery and my heart has disentangled itself from my body. A raked sob escapes my chapped lips as I realise that I mean so much less to you than you do to me. Maybe that should be past tense. Meant so much less? No, that hurts more. Somewhere deep inside me, I have to think that a part of you still loves me as much as I love you.

I force myself to click the little red x on the top right of the window, your face disappearing. You had always forbade me to post pictures of us. At the time, I truly believed you had self esteem issues and didnt want people to see you. Now I toy with the idea that maybe you were ashamed to been seen with me.

I open another window and go to my email inbox. Clicking the foreboding "Compose Message" link, I work up the courage to type your address in the "To" feild.

the email begins with Hey girl...

I tap my fingers thoughtfully over the keyboard, my fingers automatically ghosting the backspace whenever things get a little too personal, a little too much like they used to be. It dawns on me that I dont know you anymore. Im writing to a complete stranger. Nonetheless, my email ends with

Love,
Bella

just as it always has. Hopefully one day I can drum up the courage to press send.

I still feel your breath against the crook of my collarbone. Heavy and alcohol laced, it mists sticky on my skin. If I close my eyes I can summon the sensation of your fingers wrapped around my wrist. They are long and lean, were they any longer they would be able to wrap around twice. The grip is not that of a vice, its just enough to keep me from escaping. When I try to evoke the spirit of houdini and be an artist about it, the grip becomes a vice and twists. A snakebite. Theres a strange fire in your eyes, even when its dimmed it seems impossible to quell. A smile plays at the corner of the mouth as tears prick at the inside of my eyes. I cant pull away, my vice tightens. The fire is blazing. The mouth gapes and you laugh. Ranging from low to high, it is long and strangely legato. I close my eyes and will it to be over. When I open them, I realise it was just a dream. Yesterday is not now, it is yesterday. Yesterdays never happen again. I look at my wrists and swear I can see an indentation where your fingertips pressed if I protested. Piano players fingers.....

Fault lines and crevices.

I want to say that Im ok. Because, by all accounts, I am. On the surface anyway. I go about my day, I work, I play, and I do everything in between. Then I realise that one day Im not going to be able to, and my world crumbles a little. Just a little. It hurts my heart, putting little crevices in it. Little fault lines that are barely cracks. But there are so many there that they definately make thier presence known. I dont know how to stomach the feeling. I think Im suffering from indegestion. I cant fix the problem because I never know exactly whats wrong. Fear of the future? Check! Doing my best to live in the moment because I firmly believe that I have no future? Check!

Faded memories are like faded jeans. A comfort, possibly ripping at the seams

I realise tonight, after staring you in the face unexpectedly; that I miss you. No matter how many times I try to deny it, I do. I miss the sound of your voice, the feel of your leather jacket on my skin. I miss watching you play guitar and smiling down at me, grooving just a little more exagerated because you knew I loved it. Nothing happened between us to make us drift apart, but we did. Suddenly, almost two years had passed since Id seen you, onstage or off. Then tonight, you walked in to my work. I was floored. I wanted to jump over the til and hug you and tell you never ever to leave again. Your hair looks different. The colors, theyre more vibrant. Or maybe my memories are faded.

I love you. I love your quiet confidence. I love that when you saw me, I was the only person in that room, no matter how many people were there.

Neither of us are mad. Time has just made us different. Thats ok. Your hug is still the same, and my name still rolls off your toungue in the same way.

thunderstorm

I pay close attention to the sensation of the tears that roll down my cheek. Images of children balling themselves up and speeding down hills on their sides spring to my mind. I make no attempt to brush the offending wetness away, letting it rap slightly on the wooden desk my arms rest on. This goes on until Im crying so hard I could be my own personal thunderstorm..Im forced to sodden the sleeve of my favorite hoodie to afford choking to death on the mixture of salt and mucus. I smirk through my storm at the irony of that statement. Doing something to avoid the very wish that started this torrent, Im a hypocrite.

Every bone in my body is screaming Its over, give up! Give in to the pain, its not going away. The recesses of my mind are fighting back with You cant give up on the only thing you do remotely well, idiot!

Some days I listen to one side, some days I listen to the other. The internal battle de force is slowly eating at me.

I cant take it anymore, but I cant pluck up the resolve to let go.
Never fooled my self that my dreams would come true
So what happens now?
Where am I going to?
Where am I going to?

I look through the blur to notice the clock which keeps moving forward despite my breakdown. I look to realise that its barely 20 minutes into the next morning, and that just before I go to work, I will have the pleasure of seeing this.


a smile plasters across my face, there is a break in the cloud cover and a ray of blinding sunlight comes through.

its 3 am and I must be lonely

I can feel the blood pulse in my body, signalling me that yes, I am still alive in a literal sense. Yet, parts of me are dying or close to it, and I do nothing to save them. Im a terrible person. A terrible, gross, useless thing. Im not even a person, I dont have the right to call myself one. I dont have a heart, I have no soul. Im living only physically, and even then, its just barely.

Every second of every day I want to scream to the heavens. "JUST TAKE ME ALREADY", they have yet to listen. Every bone in my body protests at every move. As I sit here musing, my stomach muscles are tearing away at themselves. I can hear rip, chomp, chomp, nom nom and yet, still I sit. Keeping myself away from sleep, why I dont know. Sleep and I have a very loving relationship, but somehow tonight Im not willing to succumb.

Every once in a while I wonder how much more of this Im going to have to take, because Ive had my fill. Quite literally, Im living to die, and trying to keep a smile on my face while I do so.

Is Anybody Listening,

Does Anybody hear

Does anybody out there see us

Drowning in our fears

Or is our future written on a sky cold as stone

So, God if youre listening send someone


its adam day....

Rant rant rant rant.

Ok, first let me say this is a rant. Its going to take personal shots, be completely unprofessional, possibly offend some people, and Im probably going to cuss alot. So, stop reading if any of this makes your stomach turn. Its ok.

Im a theatre person. Im also minorly disabled. Whatever, I dont let it get in the way. The show that Im in right now, and sweeney(if I get it) will probably have to be my last two shows because I simply will no longer have the stamina to do stage work. Im trying my hardest(and succeeding slowly, I think....) to come to terms with that.

I LOVE ANDREW LLOYD WEBBER. Yes, hes repetitive and has a ridiculous amount of pop licks in his classically based shows(and he cast the Phantom in the movie himself, and he was terrible, Fuck you Gerard Butler.) He was my "first", theatrically speaking. I went to see Joesph when I was five, with Donny Osmond, and BOOM I was a theatre kid. SHAZAM.

So naturally, when I got to do a Webber revue I was completely honored and so so very happy.
To top it off, we were doing songs from Jesus Christ Superstar which is my favorite ALW show. I also can sing the crap out of Mary. Its one of the few roles where I can sing ALL the songs and be completely satisfied with them. I auditioned for the solo in I dont know how to love him and didnt get it. No biggie, there are loads of people there that can sing much better than I can. I was fine making the "Whats the Buzz?" chorus. Today we worked that part of the show. I sang my way through whats the buzz tell me whats happening/when do we ride into Jerusalem countless times. Then we had to be onstage for when Mary sings "let me try to cool down your face a bit..." and it took everything in my soul not to cringe and run screaming. True, she auditioned just like everyone and got the part, good for her, and what do I know, maybe she was super nervous...

But, from where I was standing, arms crossed and in character for my "what the fuck happened to you jesus, what are you doing with this whore?" type person(I havent given her a name yet. I have to think of one period appropriate LOL, Im that much of a dork) This woman had no singing ability WHATSOEVER. She was completely flat, off time, and didnt know how to phrase AT ALL. I looked at my music director(directly behind her and "Jesus") and raised my eyebrow. He mouths "I know, Im sorry". Youre sorry? Goddamnit. Not only do I have to deal with the fact that this is possibly my last show EVER, but now youre going to make me sit through the ruining of my favorite musical, and have it done basically by my own hand? WHAT KIND OF DOUCHEBAGGERY IS THAT? I am very very close with my music director. I love him to death. He knows what JCS means to me, what theatre means...I dont get how hes ok with this casting, and with making me be there witnessing it. Please, cut me. Put me in with starlight, or phantom or Cats or....anything but this.

I had told him previous to this that this would probably be my last full on show. My theory(and I could be out to lunch) is that he didnt cast me because he didnt want to make my physical impediment worse, and I can see that. I see that hes basically trying to save me from myself. I can appreciate that, but it hurts so so much. I hate discrimination. Even when its done with the best intention.

I even had people in the cast come up to me after and apologising for what went on in the rehearsal room. HAHAH! Wow...