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Letters To The Moon. - Blog Posts
“I just want one person to fight for me. To make me feel like I’m worth never letting go. I need someone to fight for me so selflessly and passionately; so much so, I can feel it through the universe. I want someone to hold on tight to me, because they know I’m worth it, the way I know I’m worth it.”
— Treka L. House
15th october, saturday.
the lights go off and she can hear everything, the crowd cheering, curious, anticipating whatever may come next -- and the increased volume when her name is the only thing in lights. she knows, aims for an element of surprise.
i love you and me, ... dancing in the moonlight ...
a lover of the moon, that's jennie. someone who has sought endless comfort on silent nights by pouring up a bath and watching the sky, or walked out to the river to seek an undefined *something* while in company of only the stars and moon. they see her sins and mistakes, yet never leave her.
he was the same for her once, but not anymore. and she is scared that life lacks meaning.
the man who dances with her is in charge, fluid and gentle in his movements, many which are inspired by ballet. it's dark around them, a rendition of the moon there to blind the crowd and for a brief moment only the shadowy outlines of jennie and her partner exist in the world, no one else. he moves like he cherishes her -- she pushes him away, because that lie has been told before. and jennie want it seen, for the world to be aware that she knows she is trouble, without saying the words.
feigned independence is a contrast of red on the otherwise clean and white backdrop. love isn't only bright and beautiful, it's harsh and complex.
the song and performance hits close to home. that was the whole point, in this way she can open up, tell the world that she is scared of what she longs for the most. am i asking for help?
yet she smiles more than she means to, because this, on the very stage, is the thrill she lives for. until the dancer grabs her hands above her head, because she needs that, someone reaching out to hold her. perhaps to forcefully remind her that she is worth the struggle of fame and gossip, that her fears cannot compare to the hold he has on her. reassurance. possessiveness.
but fear.
her hand refusing to take his once free from the hold, a glamorized battle for control, intimacy, and trust. ( the one who gives up control in love is the one left in pain when the illusion is over ) all mixed in with magnetic drive to not let go, being unable to, being drawn in for more. it settles on the hemline of his pants -- her fingertips onto bare skin as his shirt is undone. love isn't only childish and innocent, it's manipulative and dark, dipped in lust. words unspoken through escapades where the moonlight is the only thing illuminating two lovers. jennie finds it vulnerable, a contrast from what many view as easy, because she believes there is truth in each exchange. it has lead her astray a few times, but unspoken reassuance and an acceptance of each other happens even like that ; tangled up in bed, letting someone see your darkness.
the subtle art of attraction.
she sings about liking how he makes her feel, how it puts a something in her days, how she doesn't care about his previous loves because she plans to be his last, and it all feels like an old page out of her notebook, the one she goes nowhere without.
i don't wanna fall, don't wanna play this game alone with nowhere to hide ...
jennie knows the person the song is about never will be back, she's alone and this is a letter to the moon.
maybe someday someone will understand, and still hold her there through the fight. she wants to think she is valuable enough.
