We worked on the same steps as the other day today.
I actually didn't come in advance like I usually do because I had a little trouble parking... and I also, during an attempt to parallel park behind a 308, I hit the damn car.
I went to leave the car a little further and came back. I actually did a little dent in it. A minor one, but still one, and I didn't have any notepad on hand to leave my number. I mean, who the fuck even thinks of this?
So I wiped off the little white dust, fixed my own car, and went to park elsewhere... but then I thought, perhaps this would be a hit-and-run offense... so I came back to photograph the license plate, the dent, and I joined a Facebook group to post this in. So far my post hasn't been approved, but hopefully tomorrow it will be. I just hope I will NOT be prosecuted or something because I made a small dent in someone's car.
***
I parked at the hospital, near the psychiatry department. I spent a lot of time there back in the day. I had my appointments with my psychiatrist. It's an old building, and the part next to which I parked is fairly abandoned. The actual psych hospital is a new building behind it, and I still remember the night I spent there. I had requested it from my psychiatrist, who accepted but still thought I wasn't bad enough to go there, and I remember how I regretted it on the first night. I even thought I would get trapped into a neverending cycle of meds, psychiatry, and being locked up.
And how, that night, I saw people worse off than me, and I felt like the sanest patient in the ward.
I remember this middle-aged woman who had been abandoned by her English boyfriend of 19 years, all of a sudden. She had trouble with hygiene. It's obvious this had taken a horrible toll on her. That she could not get over it, and to think she was literally sent to a hospital for... grief.
I remember we talked about it the evening I was there. She was wearing a mask due to having had a cough recently, and I told her that it wouldn't be easy, but that eventually the pain would go down. That anyone would be shattered by their partner leaving all of a sudden like that. Especially a partner of almost twenty years.
She cried. She thanked me. When my mother came to pick me up the next day, the lady told her how sweet I was. The other patients, especially a Moroccan schizo (I think?) who'd lay down in weird places, on the ground, smoke cigarettes, be almost impossible to understand orally, possibly at least probably because of the heavy meds he's on, and who'd every now and then get into a squabble with the nurses (he'd start screaming and all and they'd have to restrain him), said the same. They all said that I was such a sweet girl.
I didn't think spending just one night somewhere would get me that, and I still kind of wonder where they all went.
Dude is probably still here, considering his state. Those patients don't tend to be able to live in society.
I do hope the lady is better now. I remember her first name, but not her last, sadly. I wish I could remember it.
But my words must've stayed with her.
To destroy or to heal.
Anytime I actually speak and not chatter, my voice is never anything neutral.
Noticed one detail while changing: very few girls almost strip naked like I do. I actually carry a top and a pareu, and I take off my current oufit. I literally am in my underwear for a short bit of time and I could not care less. But they, for the most part, put on their pareu above shorts or pants and then take them off, or at least they don't strip like I do.
I wonder if it's because I'm gay, if it's because I'm very comfortable with my body (I'm talking, rubbing one out in front of the mirror type of comfortable. It's actually a curious sight, kind of interesting to observe yourself do this...).
Or perhaps I just do not care about being seen. I even did this with the door open and the possibility of men eyeing me, without a care in the world.
***
It had been hot today, and I genuinely thought I was running a fever during the warmups. Even felt a little strange. But then I asked casually one of the girls if she was hot, and she did say it was hot.
The girl who has the same name as me, by the way. I should give her a name that doesn't sound like Hi'iaka or our actual name as to keep the anonymity going on, hehe. Plus she looks nothing like me. Hi'iaka II would just not fit. I'm thinking of a deity, perhaps. A celestial object. Or a plant. I'll see how I'll name her.
***
Why "the tattoo" as a title though? Because when we did the varu in pairs, like we did last time, I got paired with a girl I will refer to as Louise. She, along with the girl with the same name as me and two others, actually used to practice ori tahiti a couple years ago in an association, but the teacher stopped due to health issues. So now, they are basically refugees, lol.
At first, it was her turn doing the varu. Hers is soooo satisfying to watch. You can tell she used to do it regularly.
But then, when mine came, she told me something:
I love your tattoo, she said.
The Hopoe tattoo on my arm. The one that goes from my wrist to an elbow, going along the scars of my suicide attempt.
Was it done here or...?
In [city I used to live in], I replied. My tattoo artist did both my tatau on the right side. He's become my friend now.
Oh.
I can't really speak about this one tattoo, but it's very important to me.
Sure, no worries.
And that was it.
But for someone to have noticed it... and said it was beautiful...
I wonder if she noticed the scars underneath. They're still darker than my skin.
I only got it a month and a half ago and it feels like it has been here forever.
I can't say the class was very eventful today but Louise appears to be a good person.
They almost all park at the hospital, and when I drove out of it, I waved goodbye to the group.
***
Upon coming back home, I saw that Hikianalia had posted a message in the Whatsapp group.
"A message to everyone:
I am very happy to have all of you as dancers at the dance school.
To those who've been here for a few years and to those who've just joined this circle of dancers, I wanted to tell you that since the start of the year, dancing, learning and sharing the classes together has really paid off, and you're all brilliant :)
Let’s keep being interested, discovering, learning and growing together.
Well done. 🙏🙏🙏
You're all wonderful.
Kisses, look all after yourselves."
Puppis: 😘
Gina (I think? There is Gina and there is someone with the same name but nobody has a profile picture that could help me tell which is which...):
"These classes are beneficial for everyone, above all thanks to the energy you pass on to us. ❤️"Someone else I haven't named yet:
"It's all thanks to you, Hikianalia. Thank you."
Argo:
So cute. Thank you 😘
I grabbed a couple cookies to eat, some honey, and then replied:
"Hikianalia.
I'll say it with all my subtlety.
The reason we're progressing so quickly is because we have a very good teacher. ❤️
A teacher full of palpable compassion, who has a great sense of humour, and who knows how to put her students at ease. This is the best possible recipe for a group to make rapid and steady progress, and, above all, fearless progress.
You can be proud of yourself.
I thought I would say it later, but it seems the moment has come sooner than expected. 🌺"
Then, I went to take a shower.
I wondered whether I had lovebombed her or not. Literally any display of affection beyond a reaction, beyond a simple word, beyond something extremely flat or restrained, feels like I'm being too much.
Because on the inside, it's big. It's so big that I have to contain it, always. I always feel like if I showed the full palette of what's going on inside, I'd look like a crazy fucking person.
It always feels too close for comfort. Too intimate.
Just like when she's always positioned near me, and it does NOT matter where in the line I sit (because today I was not at my usual spot, though still in the first line), at times it feels... too close. It's close enough that sometimes I nearly accidentally touch her with my hand if we're doing gestures lmao, and I always do a little "whoop" when she's passing beside or behind me.
This might also be why I don't feel like going to her every time after class like I usually did. It's because I have nothing to say... and because she's putting herself fairly close to me anyway lol. I think in and of itself, I'm definitely not her least preferred student.
Insane how... almost detached I am when I am feeling safe. I almost don't go up to you or find excuses to talk to you. And almost I would be the one to flee out of fear of accidentally showing too much.
***
I can tell I'm still vulnerable to flinching when surprised, too. She corrected my hips during varu a couple of times, and each time, I did a little "ah!" and jumped.
I should be expecting it because well, dance teachers do that. But whoever touches me has me flinching if I'm not seeing it coming. When Argo touched my shoulders last time, I did flinch.
So I measure my words. I weigh them, put them here.
It's a lot like poetry.
Four, including Despina and Carina, hearted my reply.
Someone else then said:
"Thank you for addressing us this message, Hikianalia, and thank you for your encouragements and your very kind look upon each and every of us at every class!!🥰She almost went the extra mile compared to me, and yet if I said that last sentence, I'd feel like a manipulative piece of garbage.
I had a lot of fun tonight, it was so good! I forgot about all the troubles of today.
You're a golden woman and teacher ❤️"
Because I used to say those things. I used to express how much I loved someone. I used to be so showy, and even if it was early, I thought it was okay. I thought that love had to be shown.
And then, somewhere along the line, I learned this was "suspect", or "too much", or worse, "manipulative". It was not okay. It was proof that I was too intense, too attached, too much of whatever.
That it turned people off, scared them away, that it was a sign I was mentally unstable and that what I was expressing was tantamount to asking someone to marry me, move in, and conceive three kids in a row on the first date.
Not genuinely feeling an insane lot of things, and letting them explode in fireworks.
***
I have to talk about someone, though. Before I forget.
There is one woman. 50s, I think. Fat. Nice, but something about her irritates the living Jesus out of me. Not very pretty. She sweats so much she was wearing a neck fan. She's absolutely not subtle in her movements, but she may be a beginner. I should name her, by the way. Even if what I'll say isn't really... positive.
I found myself silently judging her when we were practicing. Realizing I don't like the sight of her. That I want to be a Drill Sergeant Hartman to those kinds of people. I hate ungracefulness, I hate ugliness, I hate sweaty pigs, I hate anything that looks, feels or sounds mediocre, I oddly enough don't mind curves or some women who are fat, but as soon as it looks disharmonious to my eyes, it becomes something to criticize.
Hikianalia isn't thin. Yet she doesn't look disharmonious.
Hopoe was straight up fat. Yes, I thought it was muscle very early on, or that she was just thicc, but it turned out she was indeed overweight. Her arms are as large as someone who either has been obese or is obese. She probably weighed almost twice my weight (so about 45-50kg), give or take 10kg. But it didn't look bad. And it's Hopoe. If it's Hopoe... she could have half of her face ripped off, miss a leg, or be in a wheelchair and I'd still find her hot.
Juno isn't thin. Despina isn't thin. Vanuatuan girl I haven't named yet (who texts happy birthday to another member so dryly it low-key turned me off) isn't thin. The girl with the same name as me isn't thin. Many women in my group are actually overweight.
I mean, Argo. She's very overweight, not my type at all, but something draws me to her still.
Somehow there are people whose fatness I will love. Others... it will drive me up the wall so bad.
I don't know why.
I just... for obvious reasons, I will never voice it out loud. I can't anyway, I'd feel genuinely horrible after, plus Hikianalia would probably give me a slap on the wrist since it's forbidden to be judgemental towards others.
I just wouldn't want to bully someone, but is she genuinely not someone I like, or is it that I see in her what I'm afraid of being?
Mediocre, unattractive, sweating like a pig and literally wearing a neck fan when all of us deal with the heat (that said, maybe she has hormonal issues... hence the heat sensitivity), not wearing a cropped top and a pareu and having leggings still.
I want to say, for God's sake, get a grip on yourself and work. God, what are you looking for. Fight. Be more than just someone who is unconfident. Move. Get around.
But I will not. I even hate that I'm... typing this. I genuinely hope I restrain it enough that she cannot feel it. The last thing I want is to be someone's bully.
Mediocre may be temporary. If she's a beginner, then it will ease. But dear Lord the lack of gracefulness.
Meanwhile I'm working so hard to get the movement right, I'm borderline underweight and can't seem to put on a whole lot of weight, I'm always moving, I'm always prancing around in class returning to my line, I am absolutely relentless in my pursuit of ori, losing my health for good is a massive fear of mine, I'm a borderline hypochondriac, I am stiffened up all the time, I sometimes take a while to fall asleep still because my body is wound-up, I need a hot water bottle, my warmable kitten if a microwave is available, or medication to actually wind down...
I think she might be vulnerable and an evil part of me, or perhaps my real evil nature, is latching onto it.
Vulnerability.
Maybe this is it.
But how come I can absolutely love it in certain people and be incredibly contemptuous towards it in others?
Trips me up so bad.
Anyway.
I just feel like it confirms that deep down I truly am a terrible person at the core.
***
It's weird, but when I type messages like the one I typed to Hikianalia, I feel exactly like... the anthem of Japan.
If you don't know, Kimigayo was actually a love poem from about a thousand years ago. It's a tanka, and it's apparently from a... 9th century anthology. Glory to the Emperor, but yeah, some say it was a love poem from Empress Genmei to a lover.
From. The. Ninth. Century.
Whoever wrote this had no idea it would stand the test of time to this degree. Be used as a song among the samurai, as a song of the people, as a New Year song...
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