My Life

The cool wind brushes my face, reminding me that it has the potential to bring me pain; reminding me that all the good things in life, the warm things, the things which give us life, have the potential to hurt us. My hand rests on the shoulder of a beautiful girl, hers awkwardly wrapped around my side just above my hip. It’s night time; everything has a strange orange glow underneath the color emitted through the bulbs of the streetlights. Even they seem to shine brighter in her presence.

The boy leading the way to the party begins to speak, I’ve already forgotten his name. “I hella like college so far. It’s like a group of people who are all the same just put into a building where we’re free to hella party it up! We all want the same shit, think the same shit, and talk about the same shit…” His drunken speech continues, but I drown out his voice; it makes me sick. I watch as everyone following him begins to laugh and nod in approval, I see their mouths open and close but I don’t listen to what comes out. They are the same, I am not.

My hand drops from her shoulder and our hands meet at our sides. Our fingers intertwine and it feels natural. For tonight, she is my world.

Our footsteps echo off the walls as we approach the doorway of a small house. I try to focus on the sounds of our steps rather than the words which pour from the mouths of the people I have surrounded myself with. I sometimes wish I were deaf.

As we walk toward the basement, I begin to feel her pulse beating through her hand. It makes me smile. I’m so tired of meeting girls who don’t have a heart to beat, a soul to look into, or a voice worth hearing. I wonder if she will make me forget how much pain can hurt. I wonder if she will make me forget my past, forget the girl I’ve been trying so desperately to escape.

Our hands part as her and her friends get into a line to buy alcohol. I stand alone by a wooden pillar, looking around the room, the strong scent of alcohol creeping through my nostrils. The smell is so familiar.

I feel the faint touch of a hand gliding across my stomach, I make no haste to look. My eyes slowly turn and meet with a girl I have never seen before. She’s wearing a short green dress and is carrying a red cup which is drowning underneath some strange mixture of fruit juice and vodka. I hear someone refer to it as “Jungle Juice”. She walks by me, staring into my eyes. She stops behind the guys selling alcohol and grabs an extra cup. One of them looks at her and grins. She fills it up to the top and turns toward me. She stops for a moment, two drinks in her hand to stare me in the eyes, then continues to walk toward me. She hands me the alcohol, her eyes asking me to follow her out of the room. I watch as she leaves the room, not even bothering to look back because she thinks I’m following. I walk up to the line and hand the cup to the girl I came with. I watch her mouth as it evolves from a straight face to a lighthearted smile. I love that smile.

I walk over to a chair and sit by myself a few feet away from the beer-pong table. I look around the room and quickly realize that I’m the only one not drinking. This is how it always is.

I quietly observe the party. A group of girls are trying to look sexy on the dance floor, their attempts are futile. I hope that they don’t dance that bad sober. I see a guy standing near them, one hand in the air with his lanky knees bending up and down with the music. I laugh and look away. I don’t think anyone would drink if they realized how pitiful they look.

Twenty or so people are socializing while in line for alcohol, two guys trying to find someone to play beer-pong against, a guy and a girl making out on a chair in the adjacent corner of the room, and then there is me.

My date walks over to me and grabs my hand. I can tell that the alcohol has begun to take affect due to her glossed over eyes and the sincerity of her smile. The smile which acts in juxtaposition with her blood alcohol content. The higher her BAC, the brighter her smile. I don’t think that I’ve ever seen her this happy sober.  I wonder if it will bug me as our relationship progresses.

“Why are you just sitting over here daydreaming? Everyone wants to talk to you.” I open myself up to her words as if each were a diamond auspiciously placed before me. Does she know that each daydream is about her? I shake my head and smile. “Because in my dreams I find peace, in my peace I find solitude, and in my solitude I find happiness.” She bends down and kisses my lips, then turns and walks away.

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