Sometimes the treacherous heart is yours. When you're idling, just sitting, waiting. And then a sudden rush of fear, out of nowhere, for absolutely no reason. Paranoia, I told the kids, is an unreasonable fear. But unreasonable is not the same as having no reason. Not exactly. Having no reason doesn't mean having no basis. There is a basis...a possible reason for the fear. But it's all what if. "I ask myself what if, consider the consequences, decide whether they're worth it, then never look back." So I say.
And in the train, an overpowering sense of alone-ness. A capsule I'm in the middle of. A bubble. Ignored, ignoring. Watching, watched. Unnecessary. Irrelevant. Just another curiosity.
Sitting in a darkened room, watching 3 girls bring to life what's in their minds, I wonder why I gave it up. Without more than a second thought. Without a fight. Like I did dance. And ballet. Even music, to a point. More of my regrets are not of giving things up, but of never even fighting for them.
Yet what point, this fighting. The reason for giving up sounds reasonable. Sensible. Pragmatic. The Best Thing At This Point. A solution. "I'm only sensible cuz I'm scared." Of making the Wrong Decision. Of being maverick. Of being a disappointment, even.
That hasn't stopped it, though, has it? Wrong Decisions are still made. Accusations of rebellion still thrown. And many times, I know, a disappointment.
But what point this, fighting.
"Why wait for true love," you say. "Nobody else waits. Why lose out?" And again, "Why think about all that? Why don't you just do what you feel like, and let people say what they want to?" This, when I tell you there are people I could fall truly madly deeply crazily in love with, only, I won't. Because. And I answer, I don't know. And you say, "You're gonna end up an old maid", and I laugh, but I fear too. Because I want, no, need, to love.
So 'Bright Lights' plays. And I remember 3 bands. One, the first time I ever played it. Heard and practiced two hours before the gig. Two, an ad lib thing, on a friend's stage. Three, with a band I can't imagine living without. Except that this month I will. So that next month, at least once, I'll be living within.
Ever noticed how, when you're in a certain kind of mood, everything is touched with a certain tinge of something? How there's this poignancy in words, rawness in songs, stillness in objects, reticence in self.
Baby baby baby
when all your love is gone
who will save me
from all i'm up against in this world