Friday, February 25, 2011
It's New Year's Eve and I'm at my best friend's house. She's been my best friend for six months, since we met at the end of the summer. I was nervous to come, and now that I'm here, sitting balanced on the arm of the couch, I know why. I'm out of place here among these dancing fools. They whirl around and around, never stopping except for the occasional sip of Coca-Cola or Sprite. I can see I'm not one of them, not comfortable enough to just let loose and dance, mess up my hair doing a head bang and still continue to move. I can almost see myself with them, but I can't at all in the same thought. My friend's brother stops to ask me why I won't join them, and I try to think of an excuse. I can see myself being pulled into the crowd, my hair flying, feet burning up the hardwood floor. I would laugh and sway, throw a smile over my shoulder at the person stealing a sip of water. But instead of doing what I want to, I sit here in this corner, still too shy and afraid to do try. The offer comes again, the question of why I won't join, and I'm suddenly bold, brave, ready to take on the rest of them tonight. I dance until it hurts, until I've become as much of a fool as everyone else, until my side aches and I've been laughing so much it will hurt to sit up tomorrow morning. I run barefoot through the snow and around the street, crashing pots and pans together to welcome the new year. Time seems to slow, the memories of the Eve fade already. I dance a while longer, but softer, slower, smoother than before, sometimes with a few of the others, sometimes alone. Finally comfortable in my own skin and ready to take on whatever tomorrow will bring. It's New Year's Day, I'm sitting balanced on the arm of the couch, and I'm not the same as I was before midnight.
Posted by Riley at 2:41 PM