i’ve been feeling trapped lately. perhaps it’s a death of the la vie boheme. but yes, trapped. by my head. by my unanswered prayers. by my dreams that linger just above my consciousness. by my body. by a body that the world sees as disabled–even when the artistry, the creativity, everything inside of me–just wants to be released.
so i’m disabled. they say. i am. i know. not the norm, majority–i don’t look perfect, i look like me. short, petite, curvy, israeli, whatever word you want to use to describe me. i’ve heard far worse. midget screamed at the top of your lungs as you fling a can of soda at my face. we have no place for you in this industry an agent told me in an interview once, despite talent, drive, desire. was i born for a life of unfulfilled awakenings? was it like god put all the dreams inside of me, the skills, the sprinkle of charm and then it all went awry when i came out tiny and he forget to change the inside of me, so that life would be more “realistic”? did god just say “oops” when the inside package didn’t match the outside?
i have to believe god knew. and knows. that i would be small. that i would have certain strengths, savvies and growth edges. that i was born for this life. my life.
trapped by my current lack of independence. no car. no job. no finances. no energy. so i lie here at dusk, dreaming of what could be next. there is always hope in the morning. so i watch hours and hours of broadway songs, clips and interviews–seeing great artistry flutter and explode all over a stage and transform emotion through a camera. of course, it’s less than seeing every great show in new york city.
but it distracts me from the pain and it takes me to another place. i’m just a moderate singer so probably not the musical type. but will someone ever take the pen and pen my life? can i take the stage, the camera, the microphone and be the vision on the screen? so someone, a younger me, the hundreds of thousands of other little people can see someone on that screen?
someone who looks like them–and they can have proof that dreams do come true. for every girl just like me who’s 12, please god, make her way easier. make the ache in her heart lighter. let her know it’s possible.