In other words, I have come to the title of my one woman show: Almost.
It's not written. It's nothing. Truly. It only exists as a title. I cannot fathom the gravity of the potential this show has. It's a bit of an ego. I know. But confronting the almost brings me to tears. I get scared. And I don't want anything to do with it.
I use to think my favorite word was decrepit. I'm actually dumb as rocks and it was one of the very few words (honestly probably the only word) I could memorize the spelling of/ meaning of for vocab. So I decided it was my favorite word, because it was a word that, without much effort, I had remembered. And I continued to remember it. I wasn't frail. I wasn't weak. I was not crumbling from neglect. And I've always wanted to use that word in my poetry.
But then I found the word: Gravitation. Through anime and manga. It was the power of love! I was 14-15 years old, still a dumb teen, reading what was essentially porn. However, I never understood the word gravitation in a NASA sense. Science sense. But in a literal: I am pulled to you. I am pulled to this Earth. I found a deeper meaning in that word. It was how I could and was able to express love.
I see the image of arms reaching. Sometimes I see nothing. But then it becomes this energy, almost liquid, almost a breeze. Almost something. It is a force. It is gravitation. An action. Something that is done. Something that I was, almost.
I found another word. A word I had always known. A word I used many times. It was a whatever word. It wasn't decrepit or gravitation! It was just-- Almost. I found this word in a play titled: Almost, Maine. And god, I hated that play for years in my undergrad. I see differently now. I very much love a certain scene in that play titled: Her Heart. I have directed it and performed it myself multiple times. I still glean nuances in the text and the almost text.
And then I used the word almost, in several of my poems, to describe blow-jobs with fractured arms and places that didn't exist, but did exist- I just didn't want to "share my location." I was secretive, edgy-- a real poet.
And then last night happened.
And I'm not sure if I understood in the moments that followed the accident or if I discovered it while sitting in my father work truck on the way back home from my second part-time job.
But it was that word again-- that feeling again. The in-between. The infinite. The ungodly void of: Almost.
Thank god you weren't in that car!
It almost hit the mustang!
Are you ok?
It almost hit you guys head on!
You're crying again?
It almost happened to me too!
So what did happen with your court case?
Look mija, it almost happened, but it didn't.
Last night, triggered a lot of almost moments in my life. I am not panicking, I am not so debilitated that I can't get out of bed, I do not have night terrors, I am not the cartoon woman in those depression commercials, but I am almost something beyond that. I am so well functioning. I don't even know if there is a name. I can't even call it a breaking point. But I know I am not o.k. I am not o.k. I am so ungodly done. I almost died. I almost made it into the MFA. I almost did this. I almost did that. I almost had so much hope, that finally, my luck was turning around. But time and time again, I'm just not quite there. I'm not even almost there.
I mostly understand almost in this phrase:
You almost died.
Patron St. Christopher, or my brother Christopher pushed me out of the way! Saved my flesh and earthy body! But I really want to give up. I really want to just stop. Caring. Hoping. Doing anything. What's the point?
When the accident happened, I was yelling at this drunk man. He rear ended my car that I wasn't even in, but it has triggered something so fragile and broken within me that I felt like I was back in Ohio. Laying on that ground in shock from actually being hit by a car. Wondering, what will leah see?
I almost died that night, but I didn't. This almost bullshit is not even overwhelming anymore, it's actually just so overwhelming that I can't even. I can't even. I can't do anything but cry. And cry. And cry. And then stop myself from crying, because I can't handle anything. . . but I can still go to work. I can still brush my teeth. I can still smile. I can still text all my friends! I can still enjoy a day dream. So I don't know if I'm allowed to be depressed. Say I have depression. Again I am so well functioning I cannot handle the gravity of living a meaningful life.
And I actually shouted that to the drunk man that rear ended my car.
"You do not understand the gravity of living a meaningful life."
And I don't either.
I almost died, but I didn't.
Sometimes I wish I had, because then I wouldn't have to deal with almost dying.
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