As it may have been made clear by now, I have a strong pull to choreographing from these love letters I have been writing. Each one has so much depth and meat, so much to tell and to share; and when you break them down to the rawest form, you see that they have something everyone can relate to. You don't have to see the same love letter that I do, but I want you to see something, and this particular work is no different.
Let's be honest, we have all had moments when we can recognize that we have missed an opportunity. We get stuck in this cycle of I'm going to be there, but I'm not, and then someone else takes over, and then you walk away and someone else comes in. This basic cyclic structure can be placed across the board for any particular idea, concept, or situation. That is where the idea of the piece lies.
The cyclic structure of missed opportunities.
For me, it's based off of a love letter I wrote to a guy who I was crazy about but didn't realize it until it was too late, and it's still too late. What we could've had will forever be a memory, that isn't going to change. I like to call him, the one that got away...
Let's be honest, we have all had moments when we can recognize that we have missed an opportunity. We get stuck in this cycle of I'm going to be there, but I'm not, and then someone else takes over, and then you walk away and someone else comes in. This basic cyclic structure can be placed across the board for any particular idea, concept, or situation. That is where the idea of the piece lies.
The cyclic structure of missed opportunities.
For me, it's based off of a love letter I wrote to a guy who I was crazy about but didn't realize it until it was too late, and it's still too late. What we could've had will forever be a memory, that isn't going to change. I like to call him, the one that got away...
to the one that got away,
I’ll never be able to put into words what you made me feel. It never really made sense you and I. We fought worse than anyone in the world, but when you hugged me, I felt it down to my bones. I just could never let you in, and when I finally did, it was too late. You’re the one that got away.
It should’ve been clear to me the night I crawled out of the bathroom window at your place that we were headed towards trouble. We had only known each other for a month but you had a girlfriend, and she hated me, and rightfully so. When she showed up that night, and a few of my friends and I were there, we bailed, through the bathroom window, I swear. There’s something I never told you…you were always asking me that question: “Tell me something I don’t know about you.” But you knew most it, almost all of it, really. And I loved that you knew it all, even if I couldn’t admit it to myself.
It’s funny because I know exactly what night I ruined us, you came to visit me in my room and I wasn’t there, my roommates told you to come back and when you did I still wasn’t there and instead of coming to find you, I decided to text you and act as if it wasn’t a big deal. But it was, you wanted to see me and for whatever reason I just kept pushing you away. And like most great love stories as soon as I couldn’t have it, I wanted it.
I regret it, not coming to find you that night. I don’t regret many things, but that I do. You were there for me through so many things, you never abandoned me. You cared when you didn’t need to. I’m sorry I didn’t realize it until it was too late.
And while I regret not going to find you that night, I don’t regret the path we ended up on. I’m sure there’s a reason for all that has happened between us, whether together or not. I’m sure you’re beyond happy doing whatever amazing thing(s) you’re doing now, and I know my life has kept going, and is ever so beautiful. There are about six more pages of things that I wish to write, stories about us I want to hold on to, but I won’t, for not everything needs to be written to be remembered, and somethings are best left unsaid.
You will forever be a rather large part of me and who I am today but we are no longer a “we,”
And luckily, I have moved on.
I’ll never be able to put into words what you made me feel. It never really made sense you and I. We fought worse than anyone in the world, but when you hugged me, I felt it down to my bones. I just could never let you in, and when I finally did, it was too late. You’re the one that got away.
It should’ve been clear to me the night I crawled out of the bathroom window at your place that we were headed towards trouble. We had only known each other for a month but you had a girlfriend, and she hated me, and rightfully so. When she showed up that night, and a few of my friends and I were there, we bailed, through the bathroom window, I swear. There’s something I never told you…you were always asking me that question: “Tell me something I don’t know about you.” But you knew most it, almost all of it, really. And I loved that you knew it all, even if I couldn’t admit it to myself.
It’s funny because I know exactly what night I ruined us, you came to visit me in my room and I wasn’t there, my roommates told you to come back and when you did I still wasn’t there and instead of coming to find you, I decided to text you and act as if it wasn’t a big deal. But it was, you wanted to see me and for whatever reason I just kept pushing you away. And like most great love stories as soon as I couldn’t have it, I wanted it.
I regret it, not coming to find you that night. I don’t regret many things, but that I do. You were there for me through so many things, you never abandoned me. You cared when you didn’t need to. I’m sorry I didn’t realize it until it was too late.
And while I regret not going to find you that night, I don’t regret the path we ended up on. I’m sure there’s a reason for all that has happened between us, whether together or not. I’m sure you’re beyond happy doing whatever amazing thing(s) you’re doing now, and I know my life has kept going, and is ever so beautiful. There are about six more pages of things that I wish to write, stories about us I want to hold on to, but I won’t, for not everything needs to be written to be remembered, and somethings are best left unsaid.
You will forever be a rather large part of me and who I am today but we are no longer a “we,”
And luckily, I have moved on.
This piece in my eyes has a simple surface value, but has more layers than one could imagine.
I want to incorporate teacup saucers, two dancers, and a small table. There will be two dancers. I want the sound score to be that of Bill Withers and Portishead and in seven short minutes, we are going to show you the vicious nature of the cyclical structure of missed opportunities.
I want to incorporate teacup saucers, two dancers, and a small table. There will be two dancers. I want the sound score to be that of Bill Withers and Portishead and in seven short minutes, we are going to show you the vicious nature of the cyclical structure of missed opportunities.