Theatre of Dreams in All Good Things
- May 30, 2015, 1:49 p.m.
- |
- Public
From London to Newcastle to Wycombe to Bristol to Manchester....with Canterbury, Edinburgh, Leicester and Sheffield to come, interrupted by Dubai and possibly Moscow.
This wasn’t quite how I pictured things.
Right now I’m sitting across the water from Old Trafford, the stadium of Manchester United Football Club, nicknamed the Theatre of Dreams. I went there once, almost fifteen years ago, and it was indeed a dream come true, but I haven’t laid eyes on it since. Until this week. It’s been a collision with a ghost of me, of who I used to be and once was and nearly became, and I wasn’t prepared. I hadn’t had a clue she was here waiting for me. And then, last night, I suddenly realised the date. It’s the anniversary on Monday. But the girl who was at Old Trafford so many years ago had no idea what was to come. And the other one, the one who spent so much more time there, never had it to come in the first place. She never will.
I’ve spent some time talking with her this week, with that other version of me, late nights beneath the moon watching the swans glide through inky waters, while red lights glitter on the side of the stadium which looms over everything here on the Salford Quays. She’s happy. She’s had a happy life, is having it. So vastly different to mine I can hardly comprehend it. As she can’t comprehend mine. And yet, of course, we both can, because we both come from the same place, were the same person, once. Once, so long ago.
Suddenly I’m sick of it all. What’s the point of any of it? How does any of it matter? In her world, or in mine. Similar scandals, differing tragedies, she ended up happy and I ended up....alone. It’s a shock, confronted with who you could have been. If only different decisions had been made. Different outcomes had emerged. But then they didn’t. And all this shit happened. And it happened and it’s over so why do I even care? It’s all gone forever.
But who does that leave me as?
She joined me last night inside a different theatre, my current theatre of dreams. It was strange, viewing my life from her point of view. She calls Danny ‘Cuddles’ and Leon ‘Kisses’ and Chris is ‘Mr Sexy’ and Andy is ‘Your Angel’. It’s all true and real and yet it’s not. Except it is. But hasn’t been completely. Because I’m not completely here. Because a part of me is still her.
It’s time. It’s time to say goodbye. To all of it. Let go.
Who knew it would happen in Manchester?
And yet where else could be more fitting?
Happy anniversary, Jordan. Thirteen years ago tomorrow was the last day you had left alive. You’ve been dead for so long. It’s time I let you go.
colojojo ⋅ June 02, 2015
<3 x