I know it’s been a while. I apologize. I’m hoping I can get this done tonight before my laptop battery dies. If not, I’ll finish it tomorrow.
As the music in the background gradually softens and my focus is fixed entirely on the girl I’m dancing with, I can’t help to think about all the missed opportunities in my life. She looks at me and smiles, and I smile back. It feels forced, which ruins the mood, but I can’t help myself.
When I look at her, moving her body to the rhythm of the music, pressing it against mine as if we were one, I wonder why I never went out of my way to do this with other girls. Back then, I remember, I wasn’t very good at dancing. I’m still not very good because I don’t get that much practice, but I can hang in there and follow one’s lead, like I am right now. We continue to move even closer to each other, our foreheads touching. The dance floor that was once filled with people is suddenly empty. There’s no here, but she and I, and my thoughts, that refuse to leave me alone.
I see her mouthing something, probably the words to the song, but I’m too distracted to follow. She has to know I’m not here with her, even though we’re so close. How could she not? I’m looking at her, but not actually at her, if you know what I mean. Like, I can feel us dancing, and how close we are, but I can’t feel it. I go back to past girlfriends, and think about all the bad times we had. I’m afraid to feel happy. I’m afraid to look at her because she makes me feel like I did before I fell into a deep depression.
I had a taste of what the good life is, but I couldn’t hold onto it. I had a chance, but I missed it. I tried to get it back, and make myself a better person, but I was too slow. People, I find, move on quicker than I do. They find it easier to forget, whereas I’ll be plagued by the thoughts of what I could have done differently, and what my life would be like if I had that second chance. What I learned was that there are moments in life where you think you deserve a second chance, but it doesn’t matter what you think; it’s their decision, whether you like it or not, and you have to accept it.
The bass of the music snaps me back to reality. I look down at my feet and I notice they’re not moving. As I look up, I see arms crossed and a worried face. I ask her if she’s okay. She turns the question back at me. I don’t say anything and she tells me to sit. I listen to her and watch from a distance, as she dances with another guy.