Dancefloor

I was walking back to my apartment, smiling, as I recalled the things which have happened that night. It was harmless. A wholesome night, and I had a guilty feeling I shouldnt've manipulated things to fall into place that way. Well, you know me. You can call me "the Spider" for the way I try to make things happen to my own pleasure. (Wink!)

But lying down on my bed that night, I came to a startling conclusion - that I am simply playing around with him and that there's really nothing deeper. My endearments for him are no more sincere than my affection for, let's say, my fone. But is that really how I feel?

I'm actually torn about what to do next. What was, will be again. Unless I do it right this time. I've learned from last year, not to give my heart away too fast and too fully. And so far, I am not having problems with that. This is barely a fourth of what I felt for... that person (may he go to hell).

Right now, I am simply waiting for someone to light my fire again. Someone to bring back the magic in me when I am passionately in love - if I could wait, that is. If I can stop myself from dabbling my fingers wherever I feel like it.

Love is a game. You win, you lose. But the chase is what I love the most about it. The excitement, the uncertainty, how much of your feelings to hide and to show. The hints, the winks, the interpretations fueled by your baseless assumptions.

LE once told me of the change in me compared to last year. Last year, she said, I can't help talking about "it". My eyes had this certain sparkle whenever I make kwento about what just happened that morning. Whenever I come back to the faculty room and meet her there, she couldn't help but notice how I enjoyed our "meeting".

It makes me really sad to realize that those days are gone. I find myself now, sitting in front of this computer, wishing I was back there in that state. When I was chasing what I knew I couldn't have.

***

Last night, I went to PACSosyalan with my Chemsoc friends. It was a rather bland night in the beginning. And there was not much time for dancing. I was expecting the event to be held in a bar where I can be as wild (and as drunk) as I want myself to be.

And while I was dancing, looking at my friends enjoying the night, the music, the company. Feeling the beat of the music in my chest, how the lights played upon our bodies as we were moving them, I forgot my life for a while. I forgot that I was this miserable. I forgot the heartbreaks. I forgot that I am lonely. All that mattered was that I was clapping my hands and jumping with the rest of my friends, happy and content.

On the dancefloor, all of us are equal. It doesn't matter whether you are a good dancer or not. It doesn't matter whether you're lonely, or that you have a significant other. It doesn't matter whether you're straight or gay. What is more important is that we are all there to enjoy the very few moments we are together, following the beat of the one music the DJ is playing for us.

I wish moments like that would last forever...

NOTE TO THE READER: In honor of "One Tree House" reaching more than a hundred blog entries, I will be including on some of my new entries, a link to some of my most memorable blogs. I hope you'd enjoy reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them.

Here's one I wrote last November. I like how this one ends...
"Escape"