An Iced Latte.
A floral dress slipping over the shoulder.
“I’m finally at that stage where people congratulate me for keeping my humor”. I tell my witch in horror.
“That’s what happens when you survive beyond a certain point”, my witch knows to respond and steals the Iced drink from my hands.
Humor has been haunting me.
Humor broke my neck as a young artist. Or, my apparent lack of it.
As a teenager, I often had the feeling that I could not survive without going on stage. I wanted to be an artist! I was seeking expression, capturing all the disturbing things about life I otherwise would just have to live with in silence.
Soon the judgement the world would have on me was clear. I was not funny enough, not playful enough and thus not sweet enough for the girl that I was.
Whether I played my music, did poetry slam, or found other ways on theater stages, it was always the same.
I was to heavy to look at. I was carrying more darkness most people experienced for a life time. “Just ease up a little bit.” “Ever thought of making a joke?” “Humor is the rarest of arts!”, they used to say, and I thought that true and intense feelings was an art they’d never heard of.
In my head I defended myself vehemently. I knew that the things I wanted to express were nothing to laugh about. I remembered the first time I had sat through a version of “Hamlet” at the local theater, and how I had felt devastated in the end – that was what I was seeking! Why on earth was everyone so tough on me when Aristotle had decided to declare this art thousands of years ago?
In the end, I became quiet for too long. For years, I gave up on being me, just because me was not funny to look at. Sometimes I’ve found artist that expressed their darkest self unironically, and I admired them for their lack of humor I felt. The music of Elena Tonra (and Daughter), the writings of Tracy Chevalier … It was good to know that these things were out there.
And still, nowadays I make people laugh, and when I try to open up about things that make me want to die, the congratulate me on my positive energy and the dark and disturbing kind of humor I’ve kept through all of it. Whatever that was, because most of them will never know.
Mistress witch writes 