Show No Weakness. Feel All Strength.
The Memorial Service That Never Happened
I trusted you the moment you brought me to euphoria. The moment you held me above you, and made me feel like I was flying. The moment you stepped into my life, and told me it was going to be okay.
Of course, trust is just a thing all humans want to feel in their relationships with other humans. What they don't understand is trust is more than just a word with five letters and one syllable.
Trust is not as easy as it sounds. Trust was not as easy as you made me feel. Trust was alive; she was living and breathing the same air as you and I. She comes and goes. She is strict. She is easily broken. She sings, she dances, she cries, she feels. She will control your life if you let her.
And so the first act of our Ballet began.
It started off smooth. Nothing jaw dropping, or heavy, or emotionally controlling. Simple pirouettes, grand jetés, glissades, and pas de chats; our feet always landing in the most perfect 5th position. Trust was our uplifting choreographer
Halfway through the first act, things started getting more deep and intense. Your moves became sharper, and less elegant. Trust told me something was off, but I didn't mind. I wasn't quite sure what you were dancing, but I, of course, trusted you just as I always did.
The final number in this act suddenly became a solo. I stood onstage by myself as the music began. Trust was screaming at me to find you and finish this dance we had worked so hard on; you were no where to be found. The dance grew somber, emotional, and painful. My feet ached by the end, but I ended with poise and grace. The curtain closed. The lights came up.
You appeared back for the second act. When Trust asked you where you went, you said you just needed a break; she trusted that you were telling the truth.
We survived through most of act two. Trust could tell you were not emotionally invested in it, but she thought that maybe it was just a bad day.
We began the final dance. The piano played the most complex chord progression. We sashayed to prepare for the big lift.
My arms lifted above my head in fifth position, I raised my face toward the light, I pointed my toes the second they left the ground. I leapt. I soared. I felt no one catch me. I crashed. My finely pointed toes went through the ground, and the rest of my body followed like a needle pricking it's victim.
I was buried so far below the ground, I could see no light. The last thing I heard was the gasp from Trust before she vanished. She left as quickly as she came.
I spent a lot of time buried beneath the ground, while everyone else lived their lives. I lived below the surface. I didn't smile, I didn't open my eyes, I didn't sing, I didn't dance. I knew every scream for help would only end up giving me a mouth full of dirt. Not that I ever even dreamed of getting out of suffocating ground all around me.
You let me fall. You lifted me higher, just to watch me plummet. You left me alone to attend my own memorial service. I trusted you. You wanted me gone. But I wasn't going anywhere.
I was going to fight.
I learned how to grow when you buried me beneath the ground. I learned what it meant to be stronger. I learned what it took to physically, mentally, and emotionally become my own.
I used my tears as rain drops to water my roots. I used my own hands to dig through the dirt until I finally reached the surface, and felt the healthy emerald grass beneath my fingertips.
I breathed in the warm air's gentle breeze. I lifted my chin, and as the sun hit my face, I opened my eyes for the first time in what felt like centuries. A smile lingered over my lips. I pulled myself completely out of the ground, more powerful than I've ever been. As I stood, I felt taller, more sure of where I belonged, more connected to the earth and what it had to offer. I planted my seeds with every footstep, and watched as the flowers would grew the second my toes left the ground.
I knew you were gone. No where to be found.
But I'm no longer looking.
Trust is never returning to you. She belongs to me, and she may not be back for a long while.
As for myself, I dance, I breathe. I am here to stay.