Rendezvous
26 January 06 : 10.38 PM
Two years ago today, in the year 2004, I wrote an entry about a night at a club. It was written on a Monday night, I'm sure I didn't go to school that morning.
"I danced 'till beads of sweat slid down my temples; 'till my ankles hurt from the awkward tip of my heels; 'till I felt like I could no longer keep the vomit at the back of my throat down; 'till I thought my shirt was saturated through by perspiration, mine or the many others that brushed past me.
Then I'd stop."
I can't remember the night. I remember how I felt writing that, but not the night. I was 15 going on 16, and now I'm 17 going on 18, it didn't seem that long ago.
"There's something therapeutic about dancing to plangent music that seems to impale you from every possible direction..."
Dancing. It's amazing to dance. Everyone should love dancing, and not be embarassed to dance.
"Then there's something soothing about the quietude that inevitably follows. Leaving the club and it's silent outside save the occasional drone of engines--It's like you're in another world. It's not a bad thing, but it leaves me feeling scared at times..."
I don't feel that anymore. The silence is what pleases me now, the dark and the quietude. I trailed behind the rest, and it was comfortable not talking. It was in that quietude, leaving the club, that Christian first spoke to me. I remember not wanting to speak, so I was quiet. Sometimes I wonder if we stayed friends, would it be someone else looking for me at the hotel I was at with my friends, and telling me that it would be his biggest regret if I didn't become his? I sometimes wish so.
"The night died young. I went home feeling empty, I don't know why..."
But this is a feeling that still overcomes me from time to time.