After that, he wasn’t sure what to do. He felt a feeling of insecurity, and yet boundless. The best way to put it would be anxious. He felt anxious for what waited out there for him. The world he once knew, he knew he would never know again. From that moment, his pages were blank. Now, this does not mean he tossed the old pages out the window to land in the flames. All this meant was he had no place to go, and no place he couldn’t.
Some say he became a nomad. Others say a troubadour. He held tight to the cliché of “not all who wander are lost.” He like to think the words ‘wander’ and ‘wonder’ interchangeable. He questioned everything. He explored anything. He was f r e e. He had his wits about him, don’t get me wrong. But what he had, that most people did not have, was faith. Faith in the one who watched over him, and faith that he’d find her someday.
Yes, I said her. No no, don’t stop reading. This is not some sappy romance tale that I’m telling you. He just had faith that she was out there. He knew that someday, she would show up right in front of him. And she would know where to find him. She had the same spirit as he did. Free. Oh, she was beautiful, colorful. You know they met once? yes. At a street vender, on the boardwalk not too far from where we are now. He saw this mess of color, and honey brown hair. They exchanged eye contact, and she bought him a leather bracelet. That was all. That was all they ever spoke. But he knew. He knew they’d meet again.
Ah, faith. It is a beautiful thing. He was full of it. To the brim in fact. He had the world open to him. Anxiously awaiting what would happen next, he walked. He walked until he found the nearest city bus stop. He had enough money, he knew he’d be fine. He had enough money, and he had faith. And sometimes, what more do you need? Maybe a little sunshine I suppose. But then again, rain can wash a slate clean open for creativity. Oh hell. You know what I’m saying.
And, so he left. And here I am.
(Source: iamlunalune)
All the air sucked out of your body
Cringing your bones clinch tight.
Headaches rise to your skull,
Pumping blood so fast to can see it,
Bursting through your skin.
You try to scream,
But no one is around to hear you,
So did you really scream?
You want to cry so erratically and irrationally,
But your heart aches as if it has been wrung
Through the wringer with an anvil attached to it.
This feeling
Of disparity circles through your every being
As if it is trying to get used to the new environment.
You fight it.
You fight it as hard as your physically and emotionally can.
Someday,
I’ll find my way out.
It’s been a while.
So much has happened.
So much time has passed,
Piling memories upon memories,
Heavy thoughts upon loaded minds.
And it seems as if it won’t stop long enough
to catch a breath,
to shut it’s eyes.
And it just keeps happening.
Over, and over again it happens without any warning.
it’s unstoppable,
Unfortunately.
Undefinably ripping through everything.
Having no reason.
Having no shame.
It just keeps happening,
Oh, and people try and stop it.
They try and stop the tears that it creates.
Try and stop the horrors, and the nightmares,
Try and stop the cycles, as if to cover it with a cape.
But it won’t stop.
It can’t stop.
It has been in occurrence
For as long as time has been ticking on a clock.
So, as I said before
It’s been a while.
Too much has happened.
Too much time has passed.
Too many memories have been
Placed upon a mind that hold to much already.
It is slowly taking over.
It will slowly take everything away.
Yet, it will bring a new beginning.
It repeats itself differently,
Every day.
Finals Week, Shakespeare Edition
To sleep, or not to sleep that is the question
Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to study
The slings and definitions of terms
Or to take rest against a sea of notes
And by opposing end them? To study; to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: there’s the catch
For in that sleep before my finals, what terms will I loose
When we have finished this hellish week,
We must breathe: there’s the respect
That makes this semester worth putting up with;
For who would deal with the sleeplessness and headaches
The professor’s voices, the smart kid’s curve
The pangs of desired grades, the academic delay,
The irresponsible group project and the results
The suffering student of the desire to cheat
When he himself might suffer the most
With his heavy continence? Who would deal with that?
To work, and sweat under the stressful life,
But that the dread of something after the exams,
The undiscover’d grades from whose result
No graduate returns, puzzles the job applications
And makes us rather wish we worked harder
Than to take the easy way that we know not of?
This week makes zombies of us all;
And thus the student’s idea of resolution
Is sicklied with the thoughts of sleep or vivance,
Soft you now!
The fair pillow!
Be all my slumbers remember’d
Be careful in thinking you know what you read.
You’re the biggest tease to me. Damn, you are so attractive. And the way your hands hold my face as you press your lips agains mine, and then slowly bite the very edge of my bottom lip, sends shivers down my spine. Oh the way that you hand holds mine. You are strong. I feel safe with you. You wrap your arms around me, and nothing can touch me, nothing. I breathe you in as your eyes lock into a stare with mine. I want you. I want you now. You are so damn close to me at each point I’ve known you, yet the second you’re out of my sight, it is as if I cannot make contact with you, as if I made you up. I don’t know what to do about this, or about you. And in a month or so, you’ll forget about me. Move onto someone else. And I would become the one you once knew wanted you.
Oh how he lingers,
There so far away.
But it is as if I could reach out and touch him.
He seems so real.
Yet softly he stands there
Illuminating the place with laughter and light
Beaconing to all that see him
To come closer,
To touch,
To be touched.
Oh, how I wish I was brave enough
To surpass my greater judgement,
And run to him as if he was my safe haven.
Haven, that in which he lays his cheek
So softly on the shoulder of the stars behind him,
The stars in which I will never be.
Beautiful, is the life he lives.
But why he comes out, only and night
Those who see him will never know.
But I,
Yes, I see the truth behind the stars
And the glimmer that he leaves beneath him when he walks.
I know he is afraid.
Afraid of meeting someone he knows he can never love.
Or maybe it is remembering.
Remembering a love from many years too long ago.
To ghastly cry out in passionate professions of my own desire
Would only result in a failing grand gesture for all to see.
So I sit,
I stare,
I remember,
I crave
What it was like to fall in love the man on the moon.
Bump
Bustle
Shove
Shuttle
The clack of heals
The treks or suitcases along the terrible cobbled road
The tap of a stick on a plastic crate
The clang of change hitting the pavement
Bump
Bustle
Shove
Shuttle
Looking ahead
Past the blur
Past the noise
Avoiding the looks from people across the way
Looking ahead
Moving ahead
To who knows where
Bump
Bustle
Shove
Shuttle
Screeching to a halt
Waiting to get on
Hoping to fit
Goes the daily routine
Of the Underground Railroad
A new picture from my portfolio
Picture taken with Michelle Dizon Photography.
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"Dance is not only for kids who are perfect ballerinas. Dance is an outlet for anyone who has pain, or sadness in a their life."
Vicki Smith
“I’ll know my songs well, before I start to sing them.”
Drowning yourself too deep,
That there is no possible for you to lift a single part of your body without strain.
Drowning yourself.
Suffocating yourself in such a way,
That you cannot inhale anything without yearning for something pure to flow through your body.
Suffocating yourself.
Blinding yourself by the shining, sheer white lights,
That even when you close your eyes your mind does not remember what darkness is, but only whiteness.
Blinding yourself.
Isn’t that what you do when you become engrossed in something so deeply? Your body becomes drown, suffocated, and blinded by what’s surrounding you. That’ll happen. That’ll continue to happen. As it builds, and intensifies, and strengthens. You will become stuck beneath the sunken sand upon the deserted land. It’s going to happen. It is inevitable. Decide now where you want to be. Remember to think about what you’re doing, and what you could do.
“Angel of Music, speak. I listen. In the night, there was music in my mind. My soul began to soar.”
I can’t turn off Phantom. That show brings back too many great and upsetting memories all at once. I actually deeply miss it, and have a large emotional connection to that show. I have emotional connections with a lot of things, but the theater? The theater has captured me in a way that no one, except the theater will or could quite ever understand.
I remember, opening night, he wouldn’t come. He went out with his ex girlfriend instead. That was one of the largest daggers I think I have ever taken. To be honest, that was almost as bad as being cheated on; and I’m 100% serious. That broke a large piece of my heart. I worked for four months, with bleeding feet, tear dried eyes, and so much sweat and pain, and he couldn’t even come for one show. But that’s what theater is.
It’s heart break. And work, and blood, and tons of sweat, and passion. Mounds of passion. More passion than that of the great romance of Romeo and Juliette. Theater is a piece of you. As the curtain falls on each finale cast bow, and the roars of applause, there is a small yet largely significant piece of your heart that stays, almost as a footprint, on that stage. So, for eight or nine shows, your heart breaks eight or nine times. Eight or nine heartbreaks is emotionally and physically exhausting.
And it is in no way your normal heartbreak. This is the kind of heartbreak that rips you to shreds so small that there is no way that you can ever feel whole again when you think of that show, that cast, those long hell-filled week. Each time that show is mentioned, your heart will cry out for what you long for.
You see, relationships can be mended and overcome. But the theater, ah the theater. Once a show is done, it’s done. You will never have that same cast, that same theater, those same costumes. It will never happen again. But it is the most exhilarating and phenomenal feeling to be a part of that show, that cast, that theater, to wear those costumes. It’s a once in a lifetime chance. How can you dare pass that up?
It changes you, the theater. The things you see are the most magnificently stunning train wrecks you will ever encounter. You watch people deliberately sabotage others, right in front of your face, glowing in the shaudenfraudia of people’s pain and downfall. You watch friendships fall apart, and some spark from the single strike of the previous set.
You see people starve themselves.
You see people injure themselves.
You can physically watch people lie from behind their very eyes, dying for the role of someone else. Dying for it. Thriving for it. Given the chance, would do anything for it.
a n y t h i n g.
But, behind all the bad things, the final inhale, swelling your lungs to their highest capacity, knowing you performed to your highest extent, is a satisfaction that can only be experianced. I cannot tell you what that is like. You must find out for yourself.
And so I return to my opening statement, I cannot turn this show off. It brings back too many flooding memories that I would kill to relive. The music of the night follows me in my dreams, inside my mind tonight.
Twenty-two
I did some shit last night, that you think you’d only see here, on tumblr. Wouldn’t change it for a thing. After all, summer is a time for challenges, adventures, right? Well that’s what everyone says at least. For so long now, I have been hearing people tell me to take risks. Finally, I heard them. I have twenty-two days, until I further my future. Twenty-two days to be a kid, a chid. In these last twenty-two days, I will make mistakes, and I will not regret a single one.
Finally, I can breathe.
Freedom is a beautiful treasure.
Ask me things.
Ask me things.
Anything you want,
And I swear to you,
I will be honest.
It would be nice
Can I have someone to hold my hand,
and tell me that I make them happy?
Because darling,
Even when I’m with you,
I don’t feel anything.
I love it when you kiss me,
and your warm skin is on mine,
and I can fall asleep wrapped so tightly and safely in your arms.
But, I don’t feel anything.
I want to feel something.
I want to feel wanted.
I want the song by Hunter Hayes just once to be my life.
I thought that I had that,
At one time.
But, I was wrong.
And that’s okay, I’ve moved on from that, I have.
But now, I want to feel something.
I want to look into that one man’s eyes,
And know that he’s looking at me the same way.
It’d be nice, ya know?
It’d be nice.
