goodbyes

I was on the subway and thinking about how much has happened in the past few days, and I've had no desire to write about it. That's weird. I'm not sure if I'm just distracted or what, but I'm making myself write, to keep it going and maybe figure out why I suddenly don't feel the need to.

Michael's concert is this weekend (which you all better be at) and I feel strange about it. Obviously, I'm excited, but I'm also already sad. I told him today that I'll probably be crying in the end, because the last two times we ran the piece I very nearly was. Add in the adrenaline of the performance and the actual finality of the piece, and I can all but guarantee tears. I don't know why, but that simple step touch puts me in such a current of strong emotions. It's as if I finally acknowledge everything I've been through in the last 45 minutes and release enough to let myself process it, and it hits me full force.

I'm not ready to let go of this dance, Michael. It's meant so much to me for what seems like so long now...I'm going to need help coming out of this one gracefully. I know that sounds silly but it's true. Next Sunday is going to be all kinds of wrong for me.

Here I sit with my wine, contemplating the next few days ahead of me. I'm not dreading them because I don't want to be a part of them. I'm dreading them because I know they're going to end. I don't know why I'm getting so emotional about this dance, but it so a part of me...I kind of feel like I'm going to have to say goodbye to a piece of myself when it's done.

I think maybe it's partially the end of my college days finally becoming tangible. I can feel this one ending. In most ways, I'm more excited for this show than my own graduating piece. And I made such a strong connection here...with the piece and Michael. He's given me something I can't even put words to...but what comes to mind is "a chance." I don't know what I mean by that, but I know it's what I want to say.

And I'm already in tears. I'm definitely gonna have trouble Saturday night. This is your warning.

Okay, demonstration of what this piece has meant to me. Before every rehearsal I'm part of, I really do take the time to put myself in whatever place I need to be in to accomplish what I'll be asked to do. So, somehow, every Sunday morning, Michael's piece has taken priority over both Kun-Yang's and my own rehearsal. I come downstairs, put on a pot of coffee, and turn Pandora to some kind of love song station. Angrily, I'll admit that 9 times out of 10 it was Ray LaMontagne...but whatever. The point is, I do not listen to love songs. I don't even like them unless they're about someone's heart being trampled on. But here I've been listening religiously. And this whole week, I can't help it. Pandora is feeding me love, hope, anger, sadness and memories at the moment.

At first, when he told me that I needed to start "living the truth," I'll admit, I tried to force myself to fall in love. I figured if I could do that, if I could remember what it was like, then I could dance it. But recently, I realized that isn't what he wanted. You can't force love to happen. Any self-respecting love junkie knows that. If I'm not in love, then I'm not. That's my truth. I have been in love. Very truly. Very deeply. And I have been hurt - the kind of hurt that you struggle to believe you'll ever survive. But the truth is that I did, a little worse for the wear, but I am still here. And the truth is, I finally moved on. I fell in love again. Finally. And before it could even begin, it's over. It could have been everything both of us ever asked for. But it isn't. The reasoning, unforgivable, but for now, unchangeable. Somehow, he is everything and nothing to me in the same breath.

And that is my truth.