When There's So Much Light, Why Do I Feel So Dark?

Good Morning Self.

Your recital was this morning. You sang When You're Good To Mama from Chicago and Raise the Roof from The Wild Party. Both very sexy, risque songs. You did well. You floored people. You floored your mother.

You wanted to walk up to her and slap her, and then say, "Told you so." But you didn't. You felt satisfied in the look on her face. And in the looks on everyone's faces. All the people who have known you for years... the kids you grew up with, it was satisfying to see the looks of absolute shock and confusion and awe on their faces. Good job.

You talked to Mary today. She gave you a compliment, and it made you think. She said that she loves watching you play bass, because you cradle it, like a lover. You play it like you love it, like you care for it. And that is enjoyable to watch. You'd never thought about it before, but you do. You love your bass. You care for it and you love it like you don't love anyone else. You cradle it like a lover, you stroke it like it's the love of your life. In between songs, now that you think about, you run your hands across the lacquered wood like it can feel it, like it cares about you, like it appreciates the attention.

Maybe it does.

~Alisa

PS: I can feel your heart breaking, and even as the pieces of my own clink softly against the ground, I'm trying to catch all the peices of your's. We'll get through this.

I'll follow you into the dark.