scraps of poetry and madness

Listening to musicals still makes me sad sometimes. Especially some musicals, and especially some times. It's been nearly twenty years since that part of my life. I never fully closed the door to that part of me, but it's also a room I can't go into completely. It's a room I don't think I'll ever fully inhabit again. And yet.

Shelves of scripts I'll never give away. Soundtracks moved from device to device that I can't listen to anymore. Boxes of programs and cast party souvenirs in the attic.

It's cliche to say this, but it was a lifetime ago. I think back to that period and it's not unfamiliar but it is foreign. Like walking through your childhood home and realizing you aren't in a memory but in a dream that's slowly melting into a nightmare.

But the nightmare isn't now, it was back then, when I violently ripped out that page from my life and tossed it to the wind. Only later realizing there were words on the page I'd never see again, never stumble across and only sometimes be able to remember the vague shapes of. Words that were so important to me not just lost but discarded. A secret formula, a spell, a code, a key. Gone.

At the time, I thought my love of theatre defined me. I couldn't imagine myself or my life without that as the foundation. What does that mean now, for the things I see around me that I cling to? The stuff I surround myself with that I hang my identity on?

Maybe its encouraging, empowering even. That part of my life is gone, and yet I remain. Completely different and exactly the same.

There was so much more violently lost back then than just my connection to the stage. So much more pain caused and endured. And yet most of those scars have healed over and I am stronger for it. Leaner. Smarter.

But there was such potential then. I was just starting something, intoxicated with the potential of it all, and I drunkenly wrapped my life around a lamp post. The wounds healed. Relationships irrevocably lost, but hearts grew back. I am better for that time in my life. Much didn't survive the transition. Much did and is stronger as a result. But in between, or maybe holding it all together is... theatre. That life of mine, just getting started, never to resolve.

Hanging in the air. A ghost light on stage waiting for the next show that will never come. But at least the theater is never truly dark.

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