I'm not okay....
I hate you. I hope you know that. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Musn't let my emotions dominate me, yes? Anyway, a week without Evita has actually been liberating. I know I say that I have missed the late night rehearsals, but going back to a pick-up rehearsal tonight made me realize that what I had initially thought as a void in my soul is actually a breath of the breeze of freedom. I just wasn't used to being unbound by the chains, which is why I felt so awkward when I actually had the ability to move freely, to anywhere I wanted, without the chains.
Don't get me wrong. I love to sing. Singing is freedom for me too. You can say that singing is like a drug in itself-- there's no other drug out there can give you the same high as singing does. To lose yourself in the melody, to pour out every last drop of your emotions in a single line, to give all the stamina inside of yourself for just one note (yet that single note defines your moment on stage, your chance to imprint yourself on the world) is the best feeling in the world. I am never quite like myself until I am onstage and I sing. It's as if that the person I am at this moment (and at every other everyday minute in my life) is only a facade, and the real me is so precious that one can only glimpse it while I am in the middle of a song, with my heart, mind, and soul are unfocused on the world that surrounds me and I have transcended into a higher state of bliss.
Whew. I lost my train of thought there. Anyway, I'm back on earth. Rehearsals today wasn't physically exhausting, but it was emotionally exhiliarating. Maybe I'm being immature, but seriously... being there only reminded me of the worst week of my life, and I felt just enough to be reminded of the pain I've gone through then. My heart is not as strong as I thought. It isn't fair-- just when I thought I was strong enough, I get broken once more and become vulnerable all over again. Maybe it's blowing it out of proportion to a lot of people, but the sting of pain, to me, is real.
Each day, I look out of the window I wait for you, to glimpse your face as you pass by.It's ironic how I look for you from the inside, staring out.When in reality, it's me on the outside.Looking in the window of your heart.It's pathetic how you don't even know that.