The performance isn’t actually that great. I’ve seen a lot better covers of Hallelujah.
But I have rarely seen anything as raw and heart-wrenching and beautiful as what’s in her eyes.
I envy people who feel things that deeply, that honestly.
I don’t.
No matter how strong the emotion I’m experiencing there is always a part of me that remains cold and empty and untouched by what’s going on. And it’s never pure. At some point I become aware that I am actually feeling something and that is what I focus on. The novelty of it, the alienness of it. At that point it either abruptly stops or becomes artificial.
So when I see someone who is actually feeling something, who is completely swept up in their emotions … I want to get close to that. I want to soak it up. I want to feel, if only by proxy.
I … probably shouldn’t be saying this in public. I recognize that it is likely indicative of a severe psychological disorder. And yet, that doesn’t trouble me. Quite the opposite: I see it as a sign of progress.
You want to know what the craziest thing about me is?
I wasn’t like this originally.
This is something I intentionally started doing to myself as a way to get closer to Dionysos.
And now … there’s no going back.
Pretend you didn’t just read that and watch the clip instead. It’s worth it, trust me.
I want to say something to you about this, and I don’t know how to begin. You can look at this as a sign that we both have a psychological disorder, but I understand very well and I can relate to what you are saying, because I do the same thing. I often feel like a voyeur of sorts when I witness others showing strong emotions. I am overwhelmed…and yet fascinated/curious. And often I feel guilty. I envy those who are so open, assuming that it must be that I am fearful and closed because I can’t access myself that way, unless by accident.
Once, long ago, somebody’s mother said it was because I am not just sensitive, but an empath, and the weird dance of being fascinated by emotion but holding back from it is a defense mechanism of how an empath can survive this world.
Who knows, but I also found myself being inevitably drawn to gods whose roles, I am finding out, are to strip away, to expose what is hidden, to revel in truth, reality, nature, whatever that which lies beneath. Wild gods, angry gods, gods who demand that sort of work, that sort of painful, ecstatic journey.
I’m sorry for this wall o’ text.
I suppose that I could have just thanked you for sharing your thoughts in this post. But somehow that would seem cowardly. So I’ll admit the connection.
H.
I’m so glad you spoke up. Lots to think about in your comment. Thanks.