I lied to them.
And I know that they know that I lied.
They know who they are dealing with, more than I know- my own self.
And that still amazes me- that they see me that way. That they’ve missed that “me.”
I’ve not seen myself that way in a long time, I thought that was gone. I’ve been trying to live “the life,” the one I thought I should be living, and as it falls down around me, I find myself wondering who I am and what I should do. Flickers and scenes of what once was, of who used to be, flash by in memories. I read about that person in journals and shake my head in wonder.
Have you seen that person?! She scares me- her thirst, her passion, her crazy ways, her never-ending optimism and ambition: they are exhausting. Who the hell does she think she is anyway? Doesn’t she understand that being tame is the only way to get by? The only way to be as acceptable as possible to the larger group…
She’s been close to the surface lately- biding her time for the right moment to escape and be. And then, I played into her hands: I was reckless and irresponsible in my fun; and she freed herself from me in a joyous escape. We’ve been trying to talk it through- but she’s not ready to listen to reason. We’re sharing the body- as much as you can call it sharing.
*I let her out at night to dance.*
I figure, if she can wear herself out, we will all be safer that way. But her fire never dies, she just continues to burn- like that stupid bush that was filled with the Spirit back in Moses’ day; she emits heat. I’ve been breathless and running a temperature- blaming it out loud on the damn hormones, but inwardly telling her to tone it down (if she wouldn’t mind, I sarcastically add).
And so, when I told them that I couldn’t dance without music this weekend, I was lying. Even before she was out, she hummed melodies, a soundtrack for my life. There is always music playing- sometimes soft like the embers glowing; at other times, raging, like the peak of a bonfire. The music I don’t mind. So what? I have music playing all the time. She always wants to push it to that next level- music isn’t enough, she wants to dance too. I keep telling her, “you can’t dance everywhere you go;” she answers, “why not?” I don’t know what to say- the threat of being proper doesn’t seem to phase her.
They knew I was lying.
They rolled their eyes in unison, as if to say, “we know that you have music in that head all the time; don’t even try to pretend that you don’t.” What scared me is that one of the they wanted me to dance; and I really wanted to, but I was scared to- scared that she would be so excited about it that she wouldn’t want to stop. So my brilliant idea: no music, no dancing. It didn’t fly- the other one of the they tuned into his iPhone for appropriate Latin grooves….oh, God, those are her favorite, I groaned inside. It was an awkward beginning because I was fighting it, fighting her; and then it was awesome, and then I was embarrassed, so I stopped (to her utter disappointment, might I add).
They knew I was lying.
But they aren’t too worried.
They saw the awkward transformations.
They understand what it means.
They can’t help but smile, because they know which one of us will win in the end. And I shudder at the thought-
And I don’t.