I want, i want, i want to be subterranean
Well this isn't going to be the update that is so desperately needed just hitting a few points nor is it the poetry poll. Squee died in my arms. WE buried him under a tree down by the lake. Summers Gone is planning their summer tour with break away and the connection. I'm moving to philly. And here is s story i wrote last year leave a commen if you read it.
She opened her eyes, for what seemed like the first time in days. The bitter cold hit her all at once and she nearly lost her breath. She tried to stand but the walls of her head were pounding so hard, it felt as if they were going to collapse in upon themselves as though she tried her hardest all she could muster was to sit up. She looked around, semi-conscious of where she was, and the pounding in her head made her barely able to distinguish one blur from another. She took a deep breath and stepped out of the pile of blankets she had been calling a bed.
She walked across the room. The cold floor hurt her feet but the again she was used to that. She shut the window and stared outside. She blankly looked down at the street, it was dark and the street lamps were on. The pavement and building sides looked even more depressing under the faint yellow light. No one was outside, it was desolate. The street looked almost naked with no cars and no people. She thought to herself, it’s so silent it’s painful, which was quite a feat in its own right considering how much goes on in this wretched little city. She gathered her thoughts, shook her head, and looked over the room. Its bare blank cement walls and white linoleum floor were a reflection of what she felt her life had become. She put her back against the wall and slid down till she sat on the floor; she pulled her knees to her chest and began to cry.
At first she didn’t even know what she was crying about; she tried to hold the tears back; she tried telling herself how childish this was; how pointless; how she didn’t have anything to cry for; but none of it was true; she knew deep in her heart, deep in her soul what was wrong. Ever since she was a little girl this was always her dream. She knew coming into this it would be hard but she loved it so much. She thought about how ever since she was young she was always sad, she was always so lonely, but when she was up on that stage in front everyone with the music everything faded away, she felt so alive; so happy; so loved; so needed; everyone’s eyes were on her and everyone knew who she was and how beautiful she felt. The world didn’t matter; the screaming from her parents was silenced; even the names the kids at school called her just weren’t important anymore.
When she got to high school it was different. No one ever called her names; no one ever made fun of her. In fact no one ever even seemed to look at her. She was just another face among the hundreds. At least in her younger grades they noticed her. She began to find more and more solstice in her lessons she began to live for them, to count the time at school till they came around. Every evening she would go and Petra would instruct her. She remembered Petra very dearly. He was the only one who told her how well she was doing and how beautiful she was. She felt such emotions for him. She thought he was a strikingly handsome man and her first crush.
She remembered, he and she were alone in the studio one dark rainy night. She had been practicing very hard and her whole body ached, and Petra called her over. With a heavy Russian accent he said, “Come here, we have to talk about your form today;” there was something different his voice, something almost scared. She walked across the room and sat down on the floor next to him. “You’re doing great,” he said “…a little stiff but great. By the show next month you should be perfect. Well as long as you keep practicing as hard as you have been.” She nodded yes and smiled. “I know I work you hard, and I know you go home with blisters and bruise and sore muscles every night, but I do it for a reason, you know I do,” he said “I do it because you have the most talent I’ve ever scene, and you’re beautiful. You know that don’t you.” She didn’t understand why he would say that but she kept looking into his eyes anyway. “Ever since you came here for lessons I knew there was something between us, I knew you were smart and beautiful. I’ve wanted this to happen for such along time.” She didn’t know what to think or say, she tried to tell him to stop but his hands were already moving up her thigh; she turned away un able to look at him; the further up his hands went the more she felt like crying or screaming or both; she finally worked up enough courage to say stop. He just looked at her and said,”Its okay, just be quiet, its okay.” Then she remembered he covered her mouth with his hand. She tried to get up but he forced her down. She creamed but it was muffled by his hand. She bit him but still he didn’t move his hand away. She looked at the door hoping for someone to walk in, anyone to walk in, no one did. She just cried, tears rolled down her face and onto his hand but still he just looked her straight in the eyes and said, “Its okay, its okay.” She closed her eyes and tried to drown it all out. But the sharp repeating pain and the heavy breathing just wouldn’t go away. He pushed her body harder to the ground and she stopped moving, stopped crying, just stopped everything and laid there. Suddenly the pain stopped and he stood up. She looked at him and he quickly turned his face away. “It’s okay,” was all he had to say.
As she began to cry she looked down at her torn clothes. She just couldn’t understand how this is okay or why this is okay. She just couldn’t understand at how someone she trusted so much could do this. She was so hurt; so scared; so ashamed, she even began to feel guilty. She thought to herself how it had been nearly fifteen years and she still blamed herself slightly. After that day things weren’t the same anymore. She didn’t spend every moment waiting to go to lessons. It wasn’t her only solstice anymore. She still went every evening though. She never was able to tell anyone, and it wasn’t until much later she was even sure she should have.
One day, two years, later she came to her lessons and Petra wasn’t there, but a man who was much older and introduced himself as Vladimir was. He explained that he was the one who had taught Petra, and he said that Petra had some business to attend to back in Russia. Vladimir was to become her teacher. She never saw Petra again in her life and she was much happier that way; it wasn’t until twelve years had gone by that she learned the true story; which was that Petra had passed away from a long battle with AIDS. When she heard that she was over run with emotions: fear, sadness, shock, and even shameful pleasure. She immediately went and got herself tested. The results came back negative. Vladimir went on to become and excellent teacher.
Her mother and father on the other hand we’re fighting even more so than before and that was about the time when her father picked up drinking. With the constant screaming at home, and no one ever saying a word to her at school she was being eaten by sadness. She turned to her lessons even more so before throwing her body and her mind deep into them. She would be there for seven or eight hours at a time. She would get lost from the world not caring or noticing anything till she would finish. That is why she stuck with it. That’s why as much as she hated where she was now she knew all along that this is how it was going to turn out.
She stood up and wiped the tears from her cheek, and walked into the bathroom. She splashed water onto her face and looked into the mirror, which happened to be still broken from the week before, and stared at the haunting face that was looking back at her. She looked like she hadn’t eaten in weeks, her face was long a draught, her eyes were hollowed and sunken but their deep blue still stood out as if to show there still was life inside of this person. She opened the cabinet and poured out the pills she had to take, loathing every second of it. But she swallowed her pride and the pills in a single gulp of water. Turning on the water she stuck her hand under the flow to gauge the temperature. When it was warm enough she took off the bra and panties she had been wearing and got into the shower. She just stood there letting the warm water hit her body, hoping to wash away the sadness that had always followed her. She eventually accepted that nothing was going to change from just a shower and got out. She wrapped herself in a towel and walked back into the main room. She was hungry but she knew if she ate she would get even more depressed; she thought to herself, the performance was soon and she already looked horrible enough. She decided against it.
She needed to be there so soon she went back into the bathroom. She opened her case of make up. She didn’t want to, but she forced herself to look back in the mirror; she began taking out various different powders and creams. She began to put some one when she could help thinking how much she thought she looked like a whore; all dazzled up and hiding behind a mask of beauty products; how all she was really doing was hiding her face from the world; how all she was doing was being even more of a coward. She knew though if she didn’t do it herself the woman at the performance would make her look like a real whore. So she once again had to compromise her feelings and went on ahead and finished putting on her make up. She was putting on her lipstick, bourbon; it was Nicolli’s favorite color. A tear ran down her cheek as she thought of him; memories filled her head, and she wished so hard he was still here. She remembered the day she first met him; right after she graduated from high school. She remembered vividly the fight she had had with her mother. How she had wanted to go to school but stayed with her lessons as well. She remembered when she had told her mother she was dropping out of school to pursue her dancing full time; her mother said, ”How could you do this to me? How could you? After we worked so hard to finance your schooling. After we paid so much so you could have a better future. So you wouldn’t just piss you life away under some filthy instructor doing some little shows now and then in little piss of theaters. So you could have a real job. So you could be a real honest working person. So you could have a family and a child and be able to support it.” No matter how much she tried to describe to her mother how happy it made her to perform; what she felt on stage, and how she didn’t feel that way any other time in her life, her mother just wouldn’t listen. “You made us waste all that money on expensive schools, just so you could turn around and quit? You meant to do this all along didn’t you? Is this some way to get back at us? What did we do wrong? All we ever wanted was to show you a better life. And you, you go and throw it all away? Fine then, fine then. Go be a little girl for the rest of your life, be a dancer.” Her mother said it with such scorn and malice it made her cringe.
After that she packed up her things and went to the studio, there she met Nicolli. Vladimir was there he tried to comfort her but he really didn’t know how too, so he told her she could stay there in the studio as long as she needed too, that was all he could do. They practiced almost non stop for a week when Vladimir told her that they had another student coming in and his was to be her partner; his name was Nicolli. He came in late one night during rehearsal and introduced himself. She thought he was the most beautiful man ever. He spoke with a light Indo-Russian accent and said, “Hello. It is very good to meet you, I am sure we will become the best of friends; you see I am your new partner.” It wasn’t long at all before they had moved in together. It was the first time in her life that she felt really loved, and the only time in her life when she was truly happy. She remembered though it didn’t last very long; Nicolli came home one day and said only this, “The doctors say I have brain cancer. They don’t know how long it has been there but they do say there are some treatment options and there is hope. So don’t worry. It’s okay.” Two months later she was standing over his grave placing flowers upon the ground and kissing the head stone. She could not help the tear that rolled down her cheek. However, she quickly dashed it away. She would not let his memories be tainted with tears. That was the only happy time in her life and she was going to continue to remember it that way.
She quickly finished putting on her make up. She walked over and threw on some clothes grabbed her bag and went out the door. It was a couple of flights of stairs to the ground. It was dark and they were very poorly lit but she had climbed them at this hour so many times before and she had no trouble this time. She reached the heavy metal door and the bottom and as always it was a struggle to open, but she managed, as she always did. She turned and began to walk down the empty street, at least it was too early for the men to be out who would think she was a whore. She did however miss the noise and as she walked began to hum to herself. At first it was comforting but soon it was more out of habit than anything else. The barred up widows and remnants of broken glass on the ground made seem as if the place had a much darker story to tell, but she tried not to interest herself with such things. She continued walking for another half hour, past her studio, and into a much better section of town then she had been in ages. She found it both frightening and refreshing at the same time. It seemed more wholesome, but that in it self, she felt, was sinister in it own right.
She finally reached the theater, it was much more gorgeous than she had envisioned. She entered through a door in the alley way and saw the familiar face of Vladimir. He informed her that she had plenty of time, and they had given her her own private dressing room seeing as how she was pretty much the star of the show. She was flattered by the concept and for the first time in a very long time she blushed, he smiled back and said,”It’s right over here.” She walked in and it was a small but well lit room. She was more than gracious for it and began to get undressed. She got into her out fit, all the while avoiding the mirror. When she was done she sat down in the chair they had given her. A slight anxiousness built inside of her as she waited. This is what she sacrificed everything for; this is what she lived for. Slowly the time went by, but then Vladimir came in said she had to take her place. She walked up too the side of the stage and all emotions consumed her at once. She was sad, and happy; nervous and relieved; she was scared but it all soon faded away. The music started and she began her movements; at first they seemed slow and heave, but then the light and sound took her in and carried her mind to a better place; she moved gracefully from one movement to the next they blurred together and she stopped being able to see the movements one by one; she was seeing the whole tapestry of it; it was all one, pulsating and alive; she felt alive for the first time in weeks; she thought that at this moment no one could refuse her existence; no one could refuse her beauty; Her thoughts shifted from one moment to the next feeling every second of it all; she didn’t see how she could possibly been sad before; how she could have been scared before; a euphoric sense of joy enveloped her whole body; it carried her as she jumped, as she twisted, as moved from one end of the stage to the other. This is what she lived for, this moment; if it never ended she would be happy until the end of time. Nothing else would matter, she would forget all that had happened, and be happy.
But all too soon it was over; the music faded out; the people applauded, they even gave her roses, but they soon left; soon it was just her on stage and no one else around just her. She fell back to the ground and it was all over. She went back to her dressing room and got back into the clothes she had been wearing. Vladimir came in and said,” That was the most beautiful piece you have ever done, it was one of the most beautiful pieces I have ever seen. I am proud of you.” A tear rolled down her cheek as no one had ever said that to her before. He offered her a ride home and she took it. This time it was raining hard, but the streets still were filled with people and there was a lot of noise. She thanked him and got out of the car and went up to her apartment. She quickly undressed sat with her back against the wall and wondered, why it always rained when she was sad, or was she always sad because it rained. She thought about for a while realized it was too much for her to think about right now, walked over laid down, and tried to shake the sadness that had been with her ever since the music stopped that day.
She opened her eyes, for what seemed like the first time in days. The bitter cold hit her all at once and she nearly lost her breath. She tried to stand but the walls of her head were pounding so hard, it felt as if they were going to collapse in upon themselves as though she tried her hardest all she could muster was to sit up. She looked around, semi-conscious of where she was, and the pounding in her head made her barely able to distinguish one blur from another. She took a deep breath and stepped out of the pile of blankets she had been calling a bed.
She walked across the room. The cold floor hurt her feet but the again she was used to that. She shut the window and stared outside. She blankly looked down at the street, it was dark and the street lamps were on. The pavement and building sides looked even more depressing under the faint yellow light. No one was outside, it was desolate. The street looked almost naked with no cars and no people. She thought to herself, it’s so silent it’s painful, which was quite a feat in its own right considering how much goes on in this wretched little city. She gathered her thoughts, shook her head, and looked over the room. Its bare blank cement walls and white linoleum floor were a reflection of what she felt her life had become. She put her back against the wall and slid down till she sat on the floor; she pulled her knees to her chest and began to cry.
At first she didn’t even know what she was crying about; she tried to hold the tears back; she tried telling herself how childish this was; how pointless; how she didn’t have anything to cry for; but none of it was true; she knew deep in her heart, deep in her soul what was wrong. Ever since she was a little girl this was always her dream. She knew coming into this it would be hard but she loved it so much. She thought about how ever since she was young she was always sad, she was always so lonely, but when she was up on that stage in front everyone with the music everything faded away, she felt so alive; so happy; so loved; so needed; everyone’s eyes were on her and everyone knew who she was and how beautiful she felt. The world didn’t matter; the screaming from her parents was silenced; even the names the kids at school called her just weren’t important anymore.
When she got to high school it was different. No one ever called her names; no one ever made fun of her. In fact no one ever even seemed to look at her. She was just another face among the hundreds. At least in her younger grades they noticed her. She began to find more and more solstice in her lessons she began to live for them, to count the time at school till they came around. Every evening she would go and Petra would instruct her. She remembered Petra very dearly. He was the only one who told her how well she was doing and how beautiful she was. She felt such emotions for him. She thought he was a strikingly handsome man and her first crush.
She remembered, he and she were alone in the studio one dark rainy night. She had been practicing very hard and her whole body ached, and Petra called her over. With a heavy Russian accent he said, “Come here, we have to talk about your form today;” there was something different his voice, something almost scared. She walked across the room and sat down on the floor next to him. “You’re doing great,” he said “…a little stiff but great. By the show next month you should be perfect. Well as long as you keep practicing as hard as you have been.” She nodded yes and smiled. “I know I work you hard, and I know you go home with blisters and bruise and sore muscles every night, but I do it for a reason, you know I do,” he said “I do it because you have the most talent I’ve ever scene, and you’re beautiful. You know that don’t you.” She didn’t understand why he would say that but she kept looking into his eyes anyway. “Ever since you came here for lessons I knew there was something between us, I knew you were smart and beautiful. I’ve wanted this to happen for such along time.” She didn’t know what to think or say, she tried to tell him to stop but his hands were already moving up her thigh; she turned away un able to look at him; the further up his hands went the more she felt like crying or screaming or both; she finally worked up enough courage to say stop. He just looked at her and said,”Its okay, just be quiet, its okay.” Then she remembered he covered her mouth with his hand. She tried to get up but he forced her down. She creamed but it was muffled by his hand. She bit him but still he didn’t move his hand away. She looked at the door hoping for someone to walk in, anyone to walk in, no one did. She just cried, tears rolled down her face and onto his hand but still he just looked her straight in the eyes and said, “Its okay, its okay.” She closed her eyes and tried to drown it all out. But the sharp repeating pain and the heavy breathing just wouldn’t go away. He pushed her body harder to the ground and she stopped moving, stopped crying, just stopped everything and laid there. Suddenly the pain stopped and he stood up. She looked at him and he quickly turned his face away. “It’s okay,” was all he had to say.
As she began to cry she looked down at her torn clothes. She just couldn’t understand how this is okay or why this is okay. She just couldn’t understand at how someone she trusted so much could do this. She was so hurt; so scared; so ashamed, she even began to feel guilty. She thought to herself how it had been nearly fifteen years and she still blamed herself slightly. After that day things weren’t the same anymore. She didn’t spend every moment waiting to go to lessons. It wasn’t her only solstice anymore. She still went every evening though. She never was able to tell anyone, and it wasn’t until much later she was even sure she should have.
One day, two years, later she came to her lessons and Petra wasn’t there, but a man who was much older and introduced himself as Vladimir was. He explained that he was the one who had taught Petra, and he said that Petra had some business to attend to back in Russia. Vladimir was to become her teacher. She never saw Petra again in her life and she was much happier that way; it wasn’t until twelve years had gone by that she learned the true story; which was that Petra had passed away from a long battle with AIDS. When she heard that she was over run with emotions: fear, sadness, shock, and even shameful pleasure. She immediately went and got herself tested. The results came back negative. Vladimir went on to become and excellent teacher.
Her mother and father on the other hand we’re fighting even more so than before and that was about the time when her father picked up drinking. With the constant screaming at home, and no one ever saying a word to her at school she was being eaten by sadness. She turned to her lessons even more so before throwing her body and her mind deep into them. She would be there for seven or eight hours at a time. She would get lost from the world not caring or noticing anything till she would finish. That is why she stuck with it. That’s why as much as she hated where she was now she knew all along that this is how it was going to turn out.
She stood up and wiped the tears from her cheek, and walked into the bathroom. She splashed water onto her face and looked into the mirror, which happened to be still broken from the week before, and stared at the haunting face that was looking back at her. She looked like she hadn’t eaten in weeks, her face was long a draught, her eyes were hollowed and sunken but their deep blue still stood out as if to show there still was life inside of this person. She opened the cabinet and poured out the pills she had to take, loathing every second of it. But she swallowed her pride and the pills in a single gulp of water. Turning on the water she stuck her hand under the flow to gauge the temperature. When it was warm enough she took off the bra and panties she had been wearing and got into the shower. She just stood there letting the warm water hit her body, hoping to wash away the sadness that had always followed her. She eventually accepted that nothing was going to change from just a shower and got out. She wrapped herself in a towel and walked back into the main room. She was hungry but she knew if she ate she would get even more depressed; she thought to herself, the performance was soon and she already looked horrible enough. She decided against it.
She needed to be there so soon she went back into the bathroom. She opened her case of make up. She didn’t want to, but she forced herself to look back in the mirror; she began taking out various different powders and creams. She began to put some one when she could help thinking how much she thought she looked like a whore; all dazzled up and hiding behind a mask of beauty products; how all she was really doing was hiding her face from the world; how all she was doing was being even more of a coward. She knew though if she didn’t do it herself the woman at the performance would make her look like a real whore. So she once again had to compromise her feelings and went on ahead and finished putting on her make up. She was putting on her lipstick, bourbon; it was Nicolli’s favorite color. A tear ran down her cheek as she thought of him; memories filled her head, and she wished so hard he was still here. She remembered the day she first met him; right after she graduated from high school. She remembered vividly the fight she had had with her mother. How she had wanted to go to school but stayed with her lessons as well. She remembered when she had told her mother she was dropping out of school to pursue her dancing full time; her mother said, ”How could you do this to me? How could you? After we worked so hard to finance your schooling. After we paid so much so you could have a better future. So you wouldn’t just piss you life away under some filthy instructor doing some little shows now and then in little piss of theaters. So you could have a real job. So you could be a real honest working person. So you could have a family and a child and be able to support it.” No matter how much she tried to describe to her mother how happy it made her to perform; what she felt on stage, and how she didn’t feel that way any other time in her life, her mother just wouldn’t listen. “You made us waste all that money on expensive schools, just so you could turn around and quit? You meant to do this all along didn’t you? Is this some way to get back at us? What did we do wrong? All we ever wanted was to show you a better life. And you, you go and throw it all away? Fine then, fine then. Go be a little girl for the rest of your life, be a dancer.” Her mother said it with such scorn and malice it made her cringe.
After that she packed up her things and went to the studio, there she met Nicolli. Vladimir was there he tried to comfort her but he really didn’t know how too, so he told her she could stay there in the studio as long as she needed too, that was all he could do. They practiced almost non stop for a week when Vladimir told her that they had another student coming in and his was to be her partner; his name was Nicolli. He came in late one night during rehearsal and introduced himself. She thought he was the most beautiful man ever. He spoke with a light Indo-Russian accent and said, “Hello. It is very good to meet you, I am sure we will become the best of friends; you see I am your new partner.” It wasn’t long at all before they had moved in together. It was the first time in her life that she felt really loved, and the only time in her life when she was truly happy. She remembered though it didn’t last very long; Nicolli came home one day and said only this, “The doctors say I have brain cancer. They don’t know how long it has been there but they do say there are some treatment options and there is hope. So don’t worry. It’s okay.” Two months later she was standing over his grave placing flowers upon the ground and kissing the head stone. She could not help the tear that rolled down her cheek. However, she quickly dashed it away. She would not let his memories be tainted with tears. That was the only happy time in her life and she was going to continue to remember it that way.
She quickly finished putting on her make up. She walked over and threw on some clothes grabbed her bag and went out the door. It was a couple of flights of stairs to the ground. It was dark and they were very poorly lit but she had climbed them at this hour so many times before and she had no trouble this time. She reached the heavy metal door and the bottom and as always it was a struggle to open, but she managed, as she always did. She turned and began to walk down the empty street, at least it was too early for the men to be out who would think she was a whore. She did however miss the noise and as she walked began to hum to herself. At first it was comforting but soon it was more out of habit than anything else. The barred up widows and remnants of broken glass on the ground made seem as if the place had a much darker story to tell, but she tried not to interest herself with such things. She continued walking for another half hour, past her studio, and into a much better section of town then she had been in ages. She found it both frightening and refreshing at the same time. It seemed more wholesome, but that in it self, she felt, was sinister in it own right.
She finally reached the theater, it was much more gorgeous than she had envisioned. She entered through a door in the alley way and saw the familiar face of Vladimir. He informed her that she had plenty of time, and they had given her her own private dressing room seeing as how she was pretty much the star of the show. She was flattered by the concept and for the first time in a very long time she blushed, he smiled back and said,”It’s right over here.” She walked in and it was a small but well lit room. She was more than gracious for it and began to get undressed. She got into her out fit, all the while avoiding the mirror. When she was done she sat down in the chair they had given her. A slight anxiousness built inside of her as she waited. This is what she sacrificed everything for; this is what she lived for. Slowly the time went by, but then Vladimir came in said she had to take her place. She walked up too the side of the stage and all emotions consumed her at once. She was sad, and happy; nervous and relieved; she was scared but it all soon faded away. The music started and she began her movements; at first they seemed slow and heave, but then the light and sound took her in and carried her mind to a better place; she moved gracefully from one movement to the next they blurred together and she stopped being able to see the movements one by one; she was seeing the whole tapestry of it; it was all one, pulsating and alive; she felt alive for the first time in weeks; she thought that at this moment no one could refuse her existence; no one could refuse her beauty; Her thoughts shifted from one moment to the next feeling every second of it all; she didn’t see how she could possibly been sad before; how she could have been scared before; a euphoric sense of joy enveloped her whole body; it carried her as she jumped, as she twisted, as moved from one end of the stage to the other. This is what she lived for, this moment; if it never ended she would be happy until the end of time. Nothing else would matter, she would forget all that had happened, and be happy.
But all too soon it was over; the music faded out; the people applauded, they even gave her roses, but they soon left; soon it was just her on stage and no one else around just her. She fell back to the ground and it was all over. She went back to her dressing room and got back into the clothes she had been wearing. Vladimir came in and said,” That was the most beautiful piece you have ever done, it was one of the most beautiful pieces I have ever seen. I am proud of you.” A tear rolled down her cheek as no one had ever said that to her before. He offered her a ride home and she took it. This time it was raining hard, but the streets still were filled with people and there was a lot of noise. She thanked him and got out of the car and went up to her apartment. She quickly undressed sat with her back against the wall and wondered, why it always rained when she was sad, or was she always sad because it rained. She thought about for a while realized it was too much for her to think about right now, walked over laid down, and tried to shake the sadness that had been with her ever since the music stopped that day.