.danger.

Dangerous. That's what he told me to be. That's what he said this needed. Put it all out there. I thought I already was. So how far can I go before I break? Where is the edge and how close can I get?

I think I tapped it today. I may have gone over it. I feel. Broken.

Dangerous. The point of this was to live the dance and dance the life. So if the dance needs to do more, I need to do more. If it needs danger, I need danger.

Deep breath. Okay.

I started to try it. I was in the studio until 11 last night, thinking, writing and improvising. I danced to music, as usual, but this time I spoke the entire time, and I allowed my words to control and create the movement. It was different. Stripped down. Raw. I'm torn about posting it. Put my life on the line for the sake of my art and this quest for honesty or maintain what little security I have and break some rules? I think art should win because it is inevitable that what I said will surface, but I don't think that's how it should surface, for many people. We'll see how I feel by the end of writing this.

Put a dunce cap on me and stick me in a corner. I feel that kind of dumb. Today was stupid, and highlighted all the work I still have to do. Such a small miscommunication, blown up so hugely, and only in my head. All of the possibilities. All of the conclusions. All of the scenarios I created. And the validity I was given to be as outrageously upset as I was. It made zero sense to me, and it made complete and total sense to me, at the same time. Betrayal in its purest form and me attempting to navigate it once again. Do I let him have power and take my life away again? Do I get to stand up for myself? Would standing up for myself give him power? Why the hell does any of it matter?

And even though none of it happened, the truth of the matter remains. I was devastated. That says a lot. And that isn't okay.

Emotional battery. Emotional battery. Emotional battery.
Life goes in circles. Why can't I get out of this one?

It brought me to an interesting place. Through all of the horrific thoughts and revelations I was having, something else wouldn't leave me. That day, over a year ago now, you kept insisting something was wrong with me and I kept insisting I was fine, until you finally looked at me and said, "No. You aren't. You wear your heart on your sleeve. I know you aren't okay." I walked away and got coffee. I hated that you could see it. I hated that you cared. But today...all I wanted was for you to tell me I wasn't okay. Today, I wouldn't have told you, but I also wouldn't have had a choice. You wouldn't have liked it. But we could've had coffee together and re-caffeinated ourselves back to where we should be.

That's why I texted you. I'm sorry I did. Looking back, it wasn't for anything...you were simply next on the phone call list, and then I found out how stupid I am and had nothing good to say. I had no intentions of filling you in...I just wanted to...I don't even know. Mom, Michael...then you...

Ooof...that's probably not good.

The residual emotions, I don't doubt that there's love in there somewhere, unfortunately, but I honestly think most of it is lack of conclusion and comprehension. Any time we spoke after all of it happened, I would ultimately come back to saying, "I just need to understand." He never let me. I still don't understand. I doubt I ever will. And that is what kills me. I don't know why or how he could say what he did, and so I believe him because I have no choice but to. I have no reference to say, "No, that's not right."

No one makes you feel inferior without your consent. Emotional battery.

Knowing that I've given consent to inferiority infuriates me. It's the truth and I know it, but why am I so god damn weak?

So, dangerous. How do I do that? I believe you. That's a start. I believe what you say over what he said. I believe that I'll see you in the next few days. I believe that you don't mind me being me, and if you do that's your problem, not mine. I also probably post that video I took.

This is going to take serious work...