“Anger is a cruel and furious beast”

I do not remember having had this much anger trapped inside me during my childhood, nor my youth. Sadness, frustration, definitely. A lot of both. Especially during adolescence. Love, joy, exaltation too. But now it’s anger that I feel invading my body and soul. It prevents my legs from moving, it burns inside my chest and pierces my breasts like needles, it twists and forms knots in my throat, then continues to move up my stiff neck and my tense face. It blocks my sinuses, my ears, transforms into a veil over my eyes and finally settles under the roof of my skull. There, it grows and pushes up tirelessly. Trying to escape, to find a hole, to form a crevice in order to free itself and shoot up to the stars like fireworks. Instead it remains a prisoner of my body and thus, holds me hostage. It cannot escape. So it spreads in my thoughts, it clings to my nerves, choking me and haunting my dreams.

I have no rest, let alone peace in my soul. I only see the present through this dark and twisted filter. Even when I think I have appeased it, when I feel the coal inside dying down, any unexpected irritation can have the effect of a powder keg on just barely live coal.

Oh, how I dislike this anger! My companion, by day and night, that deforms my features, consumes my flesh, carves my wrinkles, discolours my hair. Where is my strength now? My energy, my love, my hope, my faith in happy ends?

*Photo by the Feminae et Insula Collective (c)*

Anger, let me go! What can I do to free you without perishing in this battle? If only you would move downwards, if only I could liberate you into the ground. But like metal to the magnet, you are welded to the inside of my skull. I can feel all your heat as I place my finger on the uppermost point of my head. You are like a glowing cork, cutting my connection to the universe, to infinity. You cut all my ties. I feel devoid of healthy emotions. Food has lost its taste, wine no longer appeases me, champagne no longer lightens my spirits, embraces no longer move me. I wear a carapace, a shield that prevents outer harm from destroying me – and goodness from reaching me.

And yet, I have everything I’ve wanted all my life. I should be happy. But the battles I’ve had to fight alone, the innumerable compromises I’ve had to make, the mistakes I cannot forgive myself for, the stupidity I’ve had to tolerate and the insults I’ve had to swallow… they have piled up over the decades and formed such a mountain of vileness that nothing viable can grow on such rotten soil.

Now it’s too late to start all over again. I am too old, too cynical, too sour, too tired. I am the shadow of the person I used to be.

(Title: quote by Pierre-Claude-Victor Boiste)

“Deep in my heart, I know I’ve got talent”

Charles Aznavour has died.

And his song that comes to my mind is “I was picturing myself” (“Je m’voyais déjà”). Because it speaks of what every ambitious soul, what every dreamer has felt – and will always carry inside. In spite of everything. In spite of life’s disappointments, falls and wounds.

Aznavour sang about believing in a dream, even when everything is telling you it won’t come true. About staying young inside, even as you age. And this character he plays can seem as admirably hopeful as pathetically unrealistic.

“My features have, of course, aged underneath my makeup
But my voice is strong, my gestures are precise and I am resilient,
My heart has grown somewhat bitter with age
But I’ve still got ideas, I know my craft and I still believe in it

Just feeling the stage beneath my feet
Seeing the audience seated in front of me, makes my heart beat faster,
No one has ever helped me, I haven’t had any luck
But deep in my heart I’m sure that, at the very least, I’ve got talent.”

He said it all, sang it all.

And here I am, 40 years old. Inside me, I still carry the young woman that dazzled ardent glances, the one who danced on tables into the wee hours of the morning. The one artists and producers wanted to conquer. The same one who wanted to conquer it all. That Queen of the Night who drank, smoked, danced, sang, ate, loved, cried, embraced, glowed.

And today, she is more resilient than ever. More constant than ever. Though her inner light has flickered and dimmed down, the flame is still burning, carefully sheltered under a windbreak. Several times, it seemed to have perished with the passing tempests, storms and hurricanes. But, as discreet as it may be, the flame is still here.

Just like in Aznavour’s song, underneath the fine lines and greying hair, the core being has remained intact. And after a glass of wine, with the right outfit, listening to good music alongside loved ones… the vital force comes back, the voice returns, the will springs back. And suddenly, my 40 years seem to melt away. Not in that I return to my youthful naivety. Even in moments of great enthusiasm, I do not entertain the delusion that a whole new life is ahead of me. But what does return is the will to live this one life that is offered to me. And the desire to shine once again – this time with a calm glow, for a very long time. Because I am certain that this soul of mine is here to create and to bond, to love and be loved.

Because “deep in my heart I’m sure that, at the very least, I’ve got talent.”

(Text written on 1 October 2018.
Title: taken from Charles Aznavour’s song “Je m’voyais déjà”.)