I should have asked him what he was thinking up there.
Before he joined the crowd; where did he go when his eyes turned off and his fingers were more awake than ever?
And there we all were, just watching.
Live music is such a bizarre concept- humans watching other humans.
If I had a do-over I would have asked him the human questions. The kind that turn me from a woman with ulterior motives, insecurities and desires, looking at an older guy in a band as something less explicit. I remember his eyes were bright. All there. Not tired, not even after an hour of stage lights lit at high-beam. I wanted to inquire what livened them. Perhaps I could buy it from him, bottle it for my drier days.
What could have led them to be so fiery, yet so delicate under such harsh lighting?
I remember he took them off-stage, to say goodbye to his audience. And whilst starting directly into them, I froze. Instead, I diverted to the easy-shallow waters of small-talk. (I know… the biggest sin of conversation. I was pretty disappointed myself.)
See those questions came from the me I know I am. The most honest version. Without the ‘blonde’ label, school conditioning or my mother’s borrowed legs and womanly features. Without a head full of heavy days that no amount of wine can iron out. With only 5 hours of sleep clipping at my patience; I was someone else.
I aspire to be myself everyday but at the moment it’s not that easy. What’s more important is participation.
I am now someone who’s thoughts aren’t connected to my mouth. Creativity seems to be all around me yet never quenching. Music and caffeine no longer filters into my mood. Instead, lyrics and the baseline stay in their solid forms; separately packaged on a shelf up high. I can see it, I just can’t feel it.
It’s not depression. I know what that tastes like. I know all of it’s colours and shapes. No, this is struggling to find a new groove with schedule, lifestyle and thinking. I’m in an “adjustment period” someone said. (Perhaps one that doesn’t suit me.)
One that I’ve been thinking about, reading about. Visualising in meditations for over a year. A goal that was suppose to be the playground I enter, snatching up a glimpse of more to come. Without this, I have no aim. No purpose.
I am back to square one, just like when I was 18. How can I change it, if only slightly? I thought this was me. I thought unlike relationships, your purpose was a fixed investment. You hear that satisfying click and things start to make sense. Everything else is temporal; C’est La vie.
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I ‘m s t i l l
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