Dance of Life

Inspiration

The crowd moved, excited and parted like the red sea and I was Moses walking through. Listening to the praises and calls of the fans that practically worshiped me. Surrounded by many and smiling at the fame yet inside I was dying from the pain. How can someone smothered feel so alone?

"We love you." On the inside I was numb.
"You bring life to me!" How can I when I am dead myself?
"You're so inspirational" No I am NOT.

Be nothing like me.

I hear it all the time and each time my blood boils hotter and my emotions go colder. It's like a drug. I love it yet I loath it too. I can't find a way out so I ride through the pain. Gained everything and became a somebody yet I feel so empty on the inside. All this fame, all this glory, all this LOVE.

Yet I still feel empty.
Being inspirational to others yet it is I who needs inspiration.
How ironic.

How absurdly funny!

...There was only one person who was an inspiration in my life but I haven't seen her in such a long time. Years have passed and somehow...she faded away from my life or perhaps it was I that faded away from hers. Speaking with my fans yet ignoring their cries I reflect back on a past I left so long ago.

Lately I've been wishing for time to rewind. For me to be but a small child again. Back to that stage where everything made sense even when it didn't. Back to when the world didn't seem that opaque on the farm where roosters crowed and animals ran about. Dogs barked and giggles resounded from the kitchen in a tiny trailer home. The smell of fresh cobbler drifted out the over and into my ten year old's nostrils. My once wide brown eyes -filled with life- would watch as my grandma served some of the fresh baked goodies into two bowls with vanilla ice cream on top.

It was fun to watch the two opposite deserts mix. Hot and cold yet complimented each other so well! Grandma and me would walk out into the front house and sit on the large swing and talk as we savored each bite of our treat.

My grandma was someone I always admired.
Loving and kind.
Gentle and hardworking.

She was more than a grandmother to me though.

With the loss of my mother at the age of five, growing up with my grandma and her two sons -my uncle- she was my mother. Some that took care of me and loved me. Just hugging her made the monsters vanish and ultimate safety covered me.

She loved hard.
Worked even though her bones ached
And pressed on when everything in her cried for relief.

Never hated even when people deserved it. Forgave even those who didn't deserve it. Also passed on knowledge even to those who never listened.

She was genuine. A star people overlooked yet was so beautiful to many others. Someone normal yet unforgettable. She could talk for hours on end, never hushed down and I would listen to everything that came out her mouth. Even if I heard the stories many times I would still be on the edge of my sit, hooked on every word. Entranced by stories that meant nothing to others but meant everything to me. Just listening to her made me never want to shut my ears.

And her heartbeat!
Each time she hugged me to her chest
I would lay my head where her main organ was

And bask in the sound of her heartbeat.

We were so close...what happened I often pondered. I guess I grew up. Reality got distorted and we drifted apart. I followed my way and it ended up leading me away from her. I followed my dreams and now I'm stuck in a nightmare. No way out and the highest I climb the more I seem to hit rock bottom.

I try being loving.
I try doing things right.
I try being perfect

Just like my grandmother was.