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This isn’t a dance that breathes with an accordion playing through the night. If only it were beautiful like that…

34thparallel.substack.com

This isn’t a dance that breathes with an accordion playing through the night. If only it were beautiful like that…

34MAG
Jan 1, 2018
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This isn’t a dance that breathes with an accordion playing through the night. If only it were beautiful like that…

34thparallel.substack.com

DISSOCIATE BY MADELINE JAINA 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 50

I’m having one of those nights where I question my art.

I know it’s happening because my body goes, followed by my hearing, and then my vision.

“Oh, don’t mind me.

“I’m just dissociating.”

I’m distraught by the false happiness of my childhood.

So many doors to walk through.

So many pieces to fuse together.

I stand looking at all these empty bed frames that hold all the memories I’ll never have in them and I scream, “I’m dreaming of you!!! I’m wishing and I’m dreaming and I’m thinking and dreaming and floating and thinking only of you!”

Begging and wishing, I look down at my room: I’m drifting and I’m floating.

BUT FUCK THESE GINGER BEER BUBBLES and those drunken memories you forgot when you were too scared to remember.

I’m disgusted at these vaguely suicidal thoughts and the selfishness of my language. All these failed attempts at whatever. This misconstrued forgotten heart! I’ll just blame it on the business of the time.

You tell me to stop crying.

“Its just a scrape of the knee.”

You tell me I’m irrational.

It’s not irrational.

I’m just too scared not to ramble:

This isn’t a tear-stained sweater you throw in the wash. This isn’t a dance that breathes with an accordion playing through the night. If only it were beautiful like that…

But that simply is not so.

It will only be a matter of time before I can no longer escape this selfish wallow,

tight-chested, stepping but never landing.

As it turns out, I’ve turned so much hate into love, sometimes I have to look in a mirror to remind myself I’m still human. Blood doesn’t have to be blue under the skin for me to know it still pumps through my heart.

Yes, I’ve misconstrued so much love that I’ve forgotten its difference from hate.

Like an ice cube: a shock to the system, as if my heart stopped, only to begin again.

Particles of dust ground me as they fall.

For at least I know gravity still exists as I float, float, float away (laughs).

MADELINE JAINA

I am a playwright and singer, songwriter from Canton, Ohio. I moved to New York when I was 18 for school. I went to The New School for Drama and studied Oral History and Dramatic Arts.

My goal is to be the person I needed when I was younger. Words give me perspective as I try to navigate my connection with my body and who I am in this big, big world.

I have a work in progress album of songs called People Under Blankets on SoundCloud, songs recorded in my bedroom, and poetry. I also produced a collection of interviews centered around love and moments of change called God Was On The Radio Last Night, also on SoundCloud. Some day I will make money off of people listening to these things but for now I share with friends. I am still young in my writing career, but I am focusing on standing behind my words. It can be scary to be vulnerable but at this point, I don’t know what else to do.

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This isn’t a dance that breathes with an accordion playing through the night. If only it were beautiful like that…

34thparallel.substack.com
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