Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light. - Dylan Thomas
I have a load of laundry on the floor that I should be tending to but I'm ignoring it. Like I'm ignoring the fact that I haven't trained in a month in a half. Ignoring my annoying Armenian neighbor who snores every night at 2 A.M. like clockwork-poor bastard probably has got a bad case of sleep apnea yet the fucker bangs on my wall every time my alarm goes off in the morning. I'm not throwing up my fists at the fact that the projects I have been spending all my time on have fallen at the seams, although I am wondering if this whole circus train is worth it. I'm not even throwing up my fists at the Enter key on my keyboard not working right now. Simply tempted to bury myself in bed and ask someone to wake me up when it's all over.
I'm on my second Kettle One cocktail at 10 am in the morning, playing the same song by the Red Hot Chili Peppers over and over again like some lunatic with the volume on full blast-my neighbors probably think this is the final straw. I'm absorbing. Absorbing my anger and frustration, like unwanted penetration, choosing not to bang my fists into every poor sucker that comes by because that's not what adults do. We don't drop tears, we don't ask questions about this world, never wonder or say that it may have no meaning at all.
And when did I send a message into the universe that I was accepting applications for old dudes with money to offer me a break in the form of opportunity, cars or money just because I am this poor little innocent girl that needs a little help in exchange for some pervy conversation and maybe a night cap if I happened to feel up for it. I'm sick of it. I'm tired of sweet talking people, tip toeing around their bigger than life egos, being careful not to intimidate them with my cunning sarcasm just because I am hoping they might give me a chance to have a voice. Just once, I would like my message on the pavement to be read, to speak without interference, to live a life without reservation, to burn bright even if it's for a mere moment.
I'm hopping on all these damn trains leading to nowhere just to be part of the wave, be a part of the conversation, to have a life that is more than just ordinary.
My time involved with dance has been replaced by suitors, young men who whisper sweet bullshit in my ears filling me up with emptiness and frustration. Each one, better than the next, as they all persistently plead for my attention, all of them trying to fit me in their lives for their own agendas. Some of them scratching the itch of anger, escape, control, revenge, forgetting the past, distraction, masturbation, validation, frustration, confusion, copulation and none of them know they will not do. Because none of them have taken the time to see me. To get to really know the truth- instead having my image be merely a creation of their mind, and nothing more than just a mirage of their desires.
And still, I can't stop. Can't stop this crazy wave I'm on. I'm addicted, like a repulsive insect attracted to the light that will destroy me, I listen to Mr. Networks say, "you're gonna do good kid", and walk into the fire with my eyes hypnotized. Accepting the gifts that old men offer and playing Russian roulette with my safety, my peace of mind, trusting no one but still meandering into their worlds anyway.
I reserve my right to drink at 10 am and get drunk to John Frusciante's awesomeness. Because hope doesn't float my friends, it rises. I haven't seen the worst and I'm ready to barge through these damn doors guns blazing. Let these old men try and fantasize about a chance, let these network producers offer empty opportunities, let these married men with children make passes at me, sending me love notes and perverted messages, all trying to be this kid's best friend.
I'm riding this wave, for better or worse. I'm persevering, getting closer to the light, not ready to give up before I have expressed my truth. This life is more than meets the eye. I believe it. I believe this soul has yet to leave her trace on this world. I can't stop my desires, and whatever I do, I'm gonna go big. I'm putting the pistol to my lips, paying my dues, choosing to live a life without limitations, hanging on for that chance to ride high, not ready to die before I have stretched my limits. I'm choosing to go into danger, bleeding in this jungle of fury, leading me to some answers. I'm worth my weight, and I'm just waiting to see how this next chapter is gonna unfold.
