There it goes. The hand shaking. The chills. The no turning back. At least I waited until I knew what I really wanted to say, instead of fishing until I had an excuse to beat around the bush. I jumped in, and it’s evident in the prickling of my skin. I know that it is deeper than a potential boyfriend rejecting me. It is the fear of wanting approval so badly that slight shifts are made. The combination of fake and real is gaudy like gold and diamonds, and when they run, I assume it is from the bits of genuine. Not the chunks of fake.
He hasn’t replied, and I dangle in the air. The truth is, is that I’m fine with digital music media, and didn’t consider the importance of free range animal products until he brought it up, and yeah, Jay Z is a fool but some of his music pumps me up. Focuses me. And I didn’t win multiple solo and ensemble competitions, but I did compete in one. And what I wanted to say was that I guess i don’t care if I’m actually good at singing, because it just feels so good. And I am not as good as he is in the ways that he is. But I am good in my own ways. In ways he isn’t. And while I wait, I will go sing in a candlelit shower that feels like summer rain.