“Embrace all that fire. Let it burn you. Don’t run from the pain because it is the pain that is your teacher in art.”
So, my dear friend who had to cruelly leave this artistic project of ours before you ought to, thank you.
I love when I am taught something by someone in this personal of a manner. I feel as though I have spent my life in front of flames, staring passionately into the maddening, chaotic dance of fire. The past few months I’ve felt myself inching closer and closer to jumping into it, to joining this ridiculous whirlpool that exists in life, this rush of tears and joy and anger and mess. Today I even felt my toes burn a little bit. I embraced disaster. I embraced the sweet, aching pain of life. Yes, it is good and I am grateful, but I am not put together, nor would I want to be.
My family is a little broken. I don’t have a mother to talk to. I am desperately in love with theatre, which is not always kind to me. I have lost friends I didn’t expect to lose and I broke my favorite black headband with a vintage silk bow on it. I flung myself in pure hysterics onto my bed and cried without feeling devastated, hopeless, or tragic. I cried for the imperfections in life. And I am such a happier, whole, complete, screwed up, messy, chaotic person because of it.
I know I’m writing far too seriously lately (the dreamsicle picture just ran through my head), and perhaps I’m at fault for taking life too seriously, but hallelujah for being a failure at things.