dance

I promised, not sure to whom or what nor why, but a promise nonetheless, that I would write everyday, and the days I did not write: I would paint. This is my first journal entry, and it very well may be my last, for talking in the first narrative is much too intimate. I prefer to get lost in the ubiquitious melody of the third. It wasn't a lovely day, nor an ugly one. Just one of those days that you will never remember. And if you do, it is not for the weather.but then again. I spent the day in longjohns, ice to swollen wrists, watching as the lives of fictional characters fell in (and out of) love, It was a lonely day but enchanted nonetheless. I have never been high before, drunk many times, but never high. I could, though relate my feelings of enchantment with what I have read of being high. Things become clearer. Objects take new meaning. And I lose complete ability to listen as mother shares her chicken story twice, the bf discusses a future (ours? I think, his brow is serious), be empathetic to fathers allergy swollen eye, or even the conversation being held by my beloved fictonal characters right before he takes her to bed. I can only hear the music. Even when I try to listen: I can only hear the music. Simple notes, their mouths move. I focus. Concentrate. But. I can only hear the music. I give up and decide to concentrate on how red the walls have become. I paint my dreams in whispers on them and kiss my lovey on the lips. He was mid sentence, and the gesture seems to annoy him.
"Are you listening to me?" Sharp. Cuts through to my soul. I turn my head away. Nod: Lie.
The enchantment comes with the pain. Swollen hands and wrists from writing too much, and on the days I don't write I paint.
The enchantment comes with loneliness. The rush of endorphins (seratonin? Perhaps) confuses, fills me with neurons: empty. The music becomes repetitive and I begin to miss my loved ones but can't escape. The pain becomes unbearable if I do. If I focus on life and my surroundings, my wrists split open revealing colorful shatters of what used to be bones. Toxic fills my arms reaches my neck. I become immobile. I prefer the loneliness that comes w the enchantment over the pain.
Bf is quiet, I am staring at his lovely profile, so strong, so strong, so strong.
"I miss you" I whisper, the words dance with the music gently kissing his ears, nose, eyes. He blinks, looks at me.
"But I am right here baby..." The words get lost in the music, and I dance away the pain without ever leaving his side.