Let Them Dance

If my words really do dance, I would like them to do so now🕺. Hey, I do not think I thanked you for your letter, so Thank you. Who knew you had a way with your words Little Soul.....We talked at length, kindly spare me the ache of going back.

We all must stand against our demons at some point, just like men. However terrifying or dreadful, it is always better to have tried to and lost, than to have not at all. Welcome. I hope you have your Popcorn ready, for this is like a cinema. And like so, don't they always drop hints?...  

 RAINCHECK; Do you know why jurors are called the gods of guilt? 

"I spy with my little eyes, as a gentle, electric tune plays in my head, I will dance on my own like a little woodland fairy"  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~*Beautiful Dreamer🎕🥀 

Let them Dance ;

A man may very well die.  I feel a certain kind of strain, you feel it too. This dark cloud has consumed you, you feel its presence every waking moment. It doesn't go away. A heaviness also develops in your heart, the strings are pulled from every fiber of your being, all to congregate at the heart. Perhaps that is why it is heavy. It is like a thousand cockroaches moving in your veins in a single file. Irritating does not accurately describe it. Would you say that the sense is really sensing? Or am I delusional? Neither of us have a monopoly on delusions, what we do is pride ourselves with the notion that we're living the best life we can. But then again, who isn't? What kills a man I may not know, perhaps he dies because his heart has been torn apart by the strings; each pulling their own way. 

Let them dance;

A man cannot be everyone's hero. In some stories, he must be the villain.  Let us talk about men and heroes. Do you really think that they help and support others for their {the ones being helped} sake or is it just to fuel their own ego? At some point you stopped throwing those punches, you started receiving blow after blow, and now you wonder, (In Khaleesi's voice) " Does it ever end?" ......" when the pain cuts you deep, and when the night keeps you from sleeping...just look and you will see, that I will be your Remedy." They say that Ignorance is bliss, but I am yet to determine the extent to which this so called veracity applies. Little soul, Every story has its gods. You have a penchant for avoiding the truth, but today you cannot escape. See, you were, still are I might add, the villain in those stories, Their stories. You think of dungeons and caged nightingales, they make you out to be the Sea Monster out to get the princess, You are the Norman Bates to their Indiana Jones, and you know what, that's okay.  Look at me, intently! You are the maker of your own story, and in yours, You are its god. 

Let them Dance;

Many things can kill a man.  I see a....wait...Glitter....Flutter.....Wither.....Batting that    eyelid....Laughter.....Oblivious.....Fire.....Knowledge...... Apathy......The want of things impossible... He looks at you from afar, and you know he is looking. His eyes tell you of the disapproval he wantonly tries to hide. He is like that little voice in your head, always telling you to stop. Not the other one. His is foreign, an intruder and you do not like it. Appearing on your glabella, he whispers his sweet poison, and you, like the fool you are, listen to him. He causes you misery, and misery is the source of great despair. To see what is in front of you is a constant struggle. He has told you of his  conquests, how he bagged the hottie who sits in the middle. He tells you of his next great exploit, while you remain there, Smitten! Wake up. How many LOML's will you put in your bag before you finally realize that its all vanity? Or will you try the Gen Z's route, and try to convince yourself that you are the love of your life? How many times will you sacrifice your heart and soul? And for what, this vision of ecstasy that only you can see? Is it truly worth it? It is too ludicrous for words. Ask yourself little soul, how many times you are willing to mend the pieces of your heart, How many times? Only then will you realize that a man can be killed by many things.

Let them dance;

Jurors are the gods of guilt. He will tell you that that is how the twelve people sitting in court keenly listening to your story as a murder suspect are commonly referred to. He also imagines that the gods of guilt are those who have died, waiting in the hereafter, to pass judgement. Don't ask me that, I am no expert. Nonetheless, all you can do is pray to them, for what's written in their final paper, GOES! And as an attorney, you can never know that you chose the right or wrong ones. You on the other hand, feel guilty, like Pip, on behalf of those who brought you up by their own hand, and their friends have told you to keep your head up and be grateful for them having done so. Anyway, you always move past it. The guilt, perhaps of not conforming, the guilt of longing, the guilt of pain, the guilt of madness, the guilt of loss. you always do. But it takes a bit of concentration, and you usually have to muster enough courage, and at time you hear the good voice in your head chanting, "Bon Courage!" {read that in French btw} and you have to tell yourself that you can. Now you know that You Can Always Let It Go. 

You have three options, either say how you feel and fuck it up, or say nothing and let it fuck you up instead or the last but not least, let the guilt of either of the two eat you up. 

Let them dance;

Even though you have moved past them, the longing may sometimes linger, like that stray thought, popping up at unprecedented times, always begging the question, What if?

As will always be a pleasure,

Asari Sango