Lookism: What Am I Even Doing?

Chapter 98

Underneath the light of the stage, you are blinded by the reflection of my shackles. As I stretch out my hands towards the crowd they see glittering metal. Yet they don't wish to set me free. They want me to keep dancing. Dancing and dancing so they can see the light displayed before them.

Ah, so this is beauty. Is that what they think? Or do they think this is the price of being beautiful? To be centered in admiration is to be shackled. When you see something beautiful you must clip its wings and make sure that it can't escape. Because if you don't then that beauty no longer belongs to you.

Beauty belongs to no one.

Not for satisfaction.

Not for greed.

Not even with good intention.

Beauty, like all things, should be set free until it withers of temptation then sinks down like the rest of us. Glancing towards the sky wondering if they'll be another chance when it can stretch its wings beyond the skyline.

There was a time in my life when I used to love to dance. I would attend my mother's classes with fiend indifference but of course that didn't last for long. There's a freedom that comes with dancing. As you train your body to do the unimaginable, you're also giving yourself the freedom to express yourself as you wish.

Dance isn't simply following a set performance to a song. Dance can be beautiful as if it can be ugly. The movements can be hazardous or simple. Elegant and barbaric. In a way, it's about expressing your humanity. How do you choose to live your life? How will you express yourself? Just who are you underneath all your flesh?

Are you someone who holds a lifetime of resentment? Anger? Perhaps jealousy?

Are you confident in nature? Timid? A bit eccentric?

Do you wish to be wild?

Dance is a place where there is no correct movement so as long as you can feel yourself in the moment. Others might not understand your piece or its hidden meaning but at least you feel the 'realness' of your performance. The raw primal thing that you are.

What am I dancing for?

I'm feeling the same thing when I stepped into the practice room for the first time. The uncertainty...the fear...the feeling that I won't be able to understand what I'm doing. Back then, I was too afraid to step outside the lines of what was prepared for me. In my mind I thought I'd be cast aside if I made a single mistake.

They would all turn around and look at me. Their eyes boring holes into my brain; turning me stupid. I would cast my eyes down low and apologize a thousand times for the mistakes I've done then get up again only to fail. Fail. FAIL. AND FAIL.

The practice room has become this life of mine. I think I still held onto some hope of freedom. Yet I was too blind to see the shackles on my wrists. There is nothing more than I can do without feeling that I might step out of line. If I move a second too fast or too slow then I'll find myself at the bottom of a pit. Or filling the fake container of ashes in my Uncle's custody.

What am I dancing for?

I want to think I'm doing this for those I care about. I want to believe that I want to give them a great performance so they won't suffer in my name. Yet as I stand on this stage I realize that my intentions are shameful. Perhaps it was never about protecting them, maybe it was about protecting myself.