my stage

I miss the freedom you give me.
The freedom to be whoever, whatever…without fear or shame, pride or joy… just the exultation, the freedom of being… I miss the way I am afraid at the beginning… before I start. The way my heart skips, and I cannot breathe… I cannot think… I feel it all, and I feel nothing. And then I start and I just forget… I forget to breathe, I forget to be afraid, I forget to think… I just become… for them.

I miss the rhythm, the steady beat of the unfolding scenes, and the cadence of the different parts we play… one after the other… as we create, becoming more than just ourselves… creating a whole that is more than the sum of our momentary parts… Everything fades, everybody fades … It’s just you… and me … and them.

I miss holding it all back… to give it all out. The sweet, sweet exhaustion that follows... the emptiness of the space that is between the time I become and the time I return… I miss the release, of not having anything else to give… the calm after the storm… the quiet that I have in my secret place afterwards… because I have nothing else to give… to them.

You never refuse me, you always accept me… You will always be home… my stage and my home.