Transient
08/29/2005 10:15 a.m.
I never understood it before. Why she loved him. What she saw in him. I knew it had to be there. She's a savvy kind of girl, I knew there was a reason there, and yet, it never really clicked until today, after the show.

We were all in character greeting our public, when he, the shy one, the quiet and seemingly emotionless one, comes up to her. She's so opposite, so wacky and wild and just so content to not give a damn whether you like her behaviour or not, whether shes laughing to loud or being too quiet. I was like that. But he comes up her, and shes acting like a coot. The bird. Because that what we do for this play. We're birds. And all he does it look into her eyes. He grabs her hand and kisses it. He kisses her forehead, which comes up to his chin maybe, and he walks away. She blushes like a 12 year old. "I think that duck likes you" I say, laughing. She smiles a goofy grin, and turns to wave at him in this silly coot-fashion she's devised. And of all things, he just looks at her and smiles this heart stopping smile. Same smile as always, but this ones for her and somehow he changed. Somehow he's never been more handsome. He smiles with his whole face at her silliness and loves all of it. Loves the way she moves and the way she distorts her voice to sound goofy and loves it when she says nothing at all. And I think, I thought, rather, that I would like to be loved like that. That I would love to be loved like that. Effortlessly. Acceptingly. Not an awkward formal meeting but a dance where the steps dont count. I like dancing in crowds, where nobody cares how you move. When you're dancing with one other person though, you become afraid to move the wrong way. But how con someone dance wrong?

He loves her with such grace, I thought. Such effortless, timeless grace. I thought, I am worth that, aren't I? There's something in me that makes me just as special, just as worthy, isn't there? I see it in her. Everybody does. They can list it on their fingers. But where is it in me? That smile... that smile that showed no hint of embarassment or reservations. Such certainty in it. I feel sometimes like that kind of certainty is the last thing anyone ever sees in me, or feels for me. Like I'm so transient. Like his arms know when to hold her and why. Like theres so much in both of them they want to give eachother, to show eachother. Maybe not forever, but for now, and really what else do we have but now and yesterday? And I come home and I'm afraid that no one wants to hold me for too long or long enough. That no one understands me and that no one wants to try. Sometimes I get so tired of standing alone, of not needing anyone. That way he looked at her... it became clear to me that that which might be called doting by some isn't doting, really. I mean, it is servile but it isn't. It's actually obsequious jubilious.

Right now someone else is living out my stars.