october 27 2023

I’m in Chicago, again. 

I fall asleep on the plane and dream about 2015, 2017 and 2020. It’s half an hour later and we are driving through loop after loop. The air smells like something burning, like something on its way to being dead. I breathe in deeply. I breathe out a general anxiety that has followed me for years.

Technically, this is the first day of tour and I’ll be gone for three weeks this time. I don’t mind, I love traveling and performing. Another interview request. I love being on the road. Another meeting with so-and-so. It’s okay that my body is always tired and aching. Another photo op. I love my job. I will never complain.

And I don’t complain, at least not enough to be gauche. I am very lucky and after all, I chose this life but more importantly, it is choosing me back. I don’t think I could do anything else. I’ve tried, believe me, I’ve tried. I’ve been a takeout girl and a library assistant and a hostess and a waitress and a nail tech and a doula and a receptionist and a sugar baby and a DJ and a teaching assistant and a mother to a few bitch-ass-niggas and an advocacy coordinator and a student and a lover and a sinner and a saint and so on and so on. But this life I’m living now, this one I chose.

The show goes on and it goes well. At the end, I’m covered in sweat and psychic energy and hugging everyone and posing for pictures. People come up to me and tell me they loved it, they tell me I did a good job, they tell me I give them things they can’t put into words. I hold their hands. I kiss their cheeks. I look them in the eyes. I smile with all my teeth. We exhale together. I leave the venue feeling free of something. 

The next day, we fly home and I fall asleep on the plane. 

I dream about tomorrow.