Tainted

I. The insecurities I’ve held beneath my skin since I walked into Deadrock are running rampant. I feel them in the blanket of scars covering my arms, bleeding out inside me.
a. For something that felt like a lifetime, (seven minutes), I truly believed that you thought I was worth more than the stars at the tips of our fingers. Perhaps that’s why they’ve crossed me so.
b. I was tempted to scream “I love you” at the slate afternoon to see if I could ever be loud enough for you to hear me. But in a year, it has never reached far enough. My voice is tired of berating the retreating sunlight.
c. For an hour, I sat still in a place reserved for panic in a home that is no longer mine. I listened as the rhythmic lesson in self-worth floated to the floor of my mind.
d. (I have known you as the sky itself. I believed in you as one may believe in creation or the end of the world.)
 - When I needed a place to hide from the constant beating of the sun and rain, cracks appeared in the floors and walls, and dissonance leaked into the home of resolution I made for myself.
 - ‘Safe’ is but a small word for immeasurable illusions.
 - I have nowhere left to go.

Lawrence University

I am over the moon about it.

The Blue and the Dim and the Dark

I pulled aside curtains the shade of unremarkable nights lost and with absentminded curiosity unlocked the window. It reluctantly opened a few inches, and the indistinct sound of quiet souls searching for closure in city lights slipped in for a moment, and then was on its way. Outside, I could see the single windows of every other room in my wing, all shut tight against the forlorn captivity of their fellow occupants. A million weary bricks were stacked to infinity around the small pockets of human insecurity, building a fortress that greatly exceeded the vision of my own obstinate window. By craning my neck, I barely made out the tiny points of the bright otherworld that lay so far out of reach, just beyond the fingertips of the "angel-headed hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night."

New York

I stepped onto the plane terrified. But quickly, (a word which in this instance can be defined as 'in about two hours') I realized I had nothing to be worried about. Stability is as stability does, and flying is still the safest way to travel, so.
There was a moment when I first got to my room. I just stood there and let it sink in. New York City. I looked out the window and saw nothing but brick. I grinned like a fool.

In short order, the city showed its effect on me. I relaxed into bold honesty. My beautiful friends dared me to think about taking care of myself. They've placed their full trust in me, which is a very nice feeling. Every second I could, I wrote in my book everything that happened around me. I didn't freeze. I loved the weather. My literal fear of freezing was a mere whisper in the back of my mind, overwhelmed with the feelings of the city. I like walking everywhere.

Wicked was unbelievable. Defying Gravity brought tears to my eyes. The set was so intricate and the pit was so clean I just. My goodness. It rained after, and on the walk back to the hotel, I basked in it.
Anton Armstrong is wonderful. I love the way he ran rehearsal, though I like my music to be grammatically correct and well-written. I sang loud. Thank you New York. Saturday was a very proud day for me and our whole department. With my favorite six-year-old holding my hand, my family and I explored the city. The Stardust Diner made me want to be on Broadway. I got home in early that evening and took three hours for myself.

On Sunday, I didn't eat. Instead of waking up to go to Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty, I lay in bed making the conscious decision to not make a rash or reckless choice regarding my mortality the day before my biggest dream came true.

I smiled all day on Sunday. Arm in arm with my favorite nugget and my pretentious friend, I stayed warm in spite of the efforts of the chill creeping in on me. Before our final rehearsal, I thought to myself, This is the performance of a lifetime. This dream has lasted nine years and no person has come close to breaking that record. This is yours and no one can take it from you.
Despite the fact that I was nearly falling off the risers and very scarily close to fainting, the performance was everything I ever wanted it to be. Something I have no name for filled my heart when I stepped into the hall and it still hasn't left me. There was a bit of a free-for-all in the halls that evening, but I kept quiet. I'm ignoring the rumors about what happened outside our little sanctuary.

St. John the Divine was stunning. I sat in quiet reverence, not daring to breath as Come Sweet Death echoed in every crevice of the cathedral. The Italian food was wonderful. The plane ride home, initially hopeless and loaded with questions I didn't want to answer, ended very cheerfully. After another series of moments of quiet friendship, I turned on Things and retreated, finally letting myself feel fully everything I needed to feel. I opened my eyes to see the most beautiful scene I've ever been fortunate enough to witness. I decided I like flying. I like it very much. I wrote a lot.

I feel as though I've been in New York for weeks or months, not five days. I feel out of place here. But I didn't feel completely in place there. I feel alone, but in a nice way. I feel like finding myself is going to be a very wonderful adventure.