Excerpts (I had difficulty spelling excerpts)

He turns away, and I instantly regret questioning the depth of his stare. A surge of passion overwhelms me. Cut it out, that’s not you. It’s as if my arms aren’t registering my brain, and I see them travel away from my body. They reach for his collar. Gently turning his soft golden curls in my direction, I let my fingers slide up to his face. He turns towards me as I let my eyes sink into his. He leans in, and his gaze settles upon me. Where it must be, where it always should be.

Just so you know, secretly, I would. I’d be the first to.

His dimples intensified, crumbling all the strength I held within.

But just so you know, I’d also do so for almost anyone. So, honestly, don’t get too flattered.

Well, just glad to be anyone for you.

Um, ok…

Clearly, he was the cheese, and I was the wine.

But, those dimples. Those dimples remained in my presence for the rest of the night. The way they must. The way they always should.

The moment I realized that I’m not here to impress anyone – like you, or maybe unlike you, I’m just a humble resident on this earth who’s making their mark in minuscule or communally colossal ways, my high-pitched, trepid and filler infused, stuttering voice became deeper, my back stood straight, and my eyes faced forwards. The moment I realized that I’m not here to impress anyone, I started doing me. I looked at the crowd and took one second for myself to think “So this is living, huh? Being here to not impress because my being here is not necessarily impressive enough, but it is impressive.” And then, I spoke.

You know that feeling of forgetting what it’s like to feel anything? Then, being afraid, convincing yourself that your inability to feel means you must be debased? No tears; just a never ending gulf of air in your lungs making breath torturous. That is, of course, until someone says something that makes you uneasy; something that makes you quesy, and like a sly needle to a “I’m in my happy place that deals with no emotion at the moment, please leave a message — never — after the beep” balloon, you pop. So here we are, at 1:57 am; popped.