Ms. says that to counter your fear, instead of running away, you encompass and embrace it. I guess, she meant to learn to love it. To give it a hug, rather than a wave. I know my brain acknowledges this concept, but my heart refuses to.
I am afraid of a dance piece.
I am afraid to show my emotions out.
I am afraid to give.
Because giving also equates to letting things in. In this case, a person, because it’s a duet. I like to do the cutesy and flirty dances, but seldom the sad ones. I prefer the solemn ones, and dances that shows no emotion because emotionless portrays emotions. I like to do solos because there’s no one to rely but yourself and I like to know I am not accountable to anyone. The success of the piece is not tied to anyone but me. Hence I feel no burden and responsibility that I have the chance of failing. Failing not the piece, but my partner.
I like to dance by myself because I give not to one, but to the audience. Audiences can be fooled, but not a partner. A partner is someone who has gone through rehearsals with you and has to a certain extent know you from the inside out. They know when are your good days, and bad days; when you’re at your best or when you’re half- hearted. To me, I have failed, when I am not at my best to my partner. And that is a nightmare, because I cannot fool my partner.
To me, I have failed when I cannot give my partner. They say that the stage is to share, and it is not about you, but the other. If so, have I not failed completely? I cannot give, I do not know how to share. Inadequacy reproaches me.
To share is to release control and to give it away to the partner. I don’t like to have no control. I am uncomfortable to share it. I refuse to give the permission away. And in that sense, I have failed.
No doubt, the piece is a challenge. Usually a smile and some fancy improvisation would be able to create an illusion of trickery to the audience. But for this, I do not know how. I am afraid to face it, and my very breathing shows it. At times I do not care, because I do not know the audience. They have no relations to me and a good show is the only obligation for me. But now a duet that requires my technicality and emotions bared open, I cannot possibly do it. I cannot fool the audience, and that scares me. I am afraid of failing my partner, and I feel helpless.
That was written two days ago. And after much internal battle, confusion, and bloody tears, I have come to a conclusion with myself that I do not fear failure towards myself. I fear failure to others. My fear lies in the disappointment of others. And this is because I care, perhaps too much in this case.
I guess I should not care at all then.