#daretowrite

i. you are twenty when you first step onto that stage- you had been on similar ones before, seen the crowds, danced with others, but this was the first time you had something to call your own. you are twenty, and there’s hair covering your eyes and you’re nearly struck speechless when the audience screams for you, and you tell yourself to never forget this moment, because you will never feel this way again.

ii. you are twenty-two when they leave, and it breaks your heart but you can’t let them see, can’t let anyone see, and you hide it away and pretend everything’s okay, because you have to be strong now, have to be strong for everyone else, for your brothers. you try your best to ignore the pain, ignore the way your heart fractures when you see their empty beds, hear their names, and you pour that pain into late nights staring at the computer and picking out notes on the keyboard in front of you.

iii. you are twenty-three when your waist injury from your trainee days comes back but you are busy and you have plans and dreams and you don’t have time for something like an injury and you think you can push through it, the same way you pushed through it before, but this time, it’s too much and you collapse. you wonder why something you love this much seems to keep taking and taking and taking from you.  

iv. you are twenty-four when you burst into tears onstage because all of a sudden it’s too much, there are so many things you want to do, so many things you need to prove, and not nearly enough time to do them. you blame your body for not meeting your expectations, and you push yourself harder, to work harder, because you’ve learned that perseverance and your own effort are all you can rely on. you hide your face because you don’t want others to see your anguish, and you pretend it’s okay.

v.you are twenty-five when they tell you that you’re no longer allowed to perform with your brothers, and you want to scream, and scream, and scream at the universe, scream until you run out of air in your body and it collapses into itself, crumbles into dust, broken. you spend nights sleepless, staring up at the ceiling, and it’s maddeningly quiet, and your thoughts chase each other round, and round, and round.

vi. you are twenty-seven, still tender and humble, and you’ve torn your heart in pieces, embedded it into each of your songs, pulled strings of melody from air and breathed life into them with the stardust in your lungs. you smile, sweet, and you no longer have to pretend to be happy- though you are still soft-skinned, you know the taste of pain, know what it’s like to suffer. you have walked through the inferno and come back, unsinged.

- and this is how it begins, star boy | (e.l.)

define: ache

the bruising in your bones, the quiet pain you hold so close to your heart,

the fragility of movement and the gentle way it tears you apart.

- short answer #1 | (e.l.)