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i started going out to dance for the dance…
and for the haunting music.
but it wasn’t hardly a moment before i started worrying about whether or not i could belong.
and whether or not i’d ever be ‘good’ (let alone ‘good enough’).
or if i’d always be too clumsy and too big and too fat…
i get ready to go dancing tonight
after a year and a half of bad ankles and surgery and healing…and still healing
and an additional 15 lbs.
and i’m not worrying about whether or not i belong
or how good i’ll be
i’ll be as good as i can be
and i’ll talk to who i want to talk with…
and i’ll dance as much as i can dance before i can’t anymore….
because i’m back to dancing for the dance
and i belong to the music.
What does it mean when I keep handing back the matches? Does it mean that I want to sit alone in the cold dark?
Perhaps…
Or perhaps I can’t stand the sight of what the light brings me.
I keep smiling here and there…
But I’m not smiling on the insides anymore.
P.S. I’d really like to get past this and get back to painting again.
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