if i could change one thing,

[the_becoming]

right this very second, i would change being ill.

i would have never stopped.

i would have kept dancing.

i would have continued to push myself.

i would have lived and died in every aching arabesque, showed more of my soul as every single pirouette tightened, burnt a trail across every board my toes touched.

if my muscles have a memory, sitting still here, now, they feel merely a dream similar to one in which you or i may ponder the possibility of a past life. reincarnate, as heavy flesh.

reincarnate as something my spirit doesn't understand.

blinded by bright light, never a dry palm, the surly steady heady breath; adrenaline weaves it's way through my veins.

i miss you stage.

discipline. passion. understanding. what it means to be alive.