Of A Torn Past: I

Spinning outside of this building. We were spinning outside of this. You know, when you hold the other person's hands and you start out slow, gradually get faster and faster. That was how it was. That is how it has always been. but specifically, that very night that was how it was. That very night; yes, it was nightfall. It was nightfall and the black sky gave thought that no one knew what each other was wearing. No one cared, but no one knew, either. It was that name they gave themselves. Or others gave us. Or what we liked to be since everyone was something in this world. We were spinning...a motion that we savored as dancing. It was the end of April and it was warm. No one wore an overbearing coat. We moved freely amongst the crowds that were disbanding. We two of the nine or so spun delicately, without shame when only we remained outside of the building, after the masses cleared from the event. I don't think any of us actually liked the event. I don't think any of us actually sat through the whole of it. Little white lies convinced us that we did fancy the idea of a mediocre performance… When truthfully, some of the crew left to smell the smoke of everything unnatural. Then again, you couldn't expect any more from... anymore from the immature. Aside from us two, the other seven or so talked of the meaningless. One of them circled us on rollerblades with a broken heart. Yes, that was what he liked to do, that very night when he'd nothing more nothing less. He glided around us like a predator, singing, while we spun faster and faster; singing hopelessly, "Like the angel you are, you laugh, creating…" It sounded pretty as he orbited us two, singing in a weak voice so low that he might have been humming. Might have been humming, or we might have been spinning too fast. Much too fast. I must have miscalculated my step, because I stumbled. But I got back up and recklessly continued. I remember a swollen ankle turned black and blue not so many days following due to my miscalculations… my 'two left feet'…my haunting memory of the previous week. Singing along with the broken-hearted's tune, I tried to smile and think of everything favorable. I can't quite pinpoint how I was feeling that night... Not so far from devastation, maybe. I remember vowing to make that specific night the only night I would be happy; just for one night, I promised. Spinning was the only thing that kept me from breaking. I didn't even attend to what any of the other eight were talking about when they engaged in passionately animate conversations. I nodded and talked really loud, a whole lot of nothing. I ran back and forth with others. Perhaps, a race? I do not remember. I remember trying to be fine, breaking down and pretending that it wasn't as late as it was. The coolness of the night broke way and people began to speak of those I didn't want to hear about. Spinning became routine and no one wanted anything to do with the façade of the old building anymore. The broken heart spoke of ice cream in his basement, and some shadowed him on his proposal. A piercing look and a question followed, "Well, aren't you coming?" I would conjure a formidable excuse, another white lie, an "important rendezvous" that I couldn't possibly miss…at midnight, when people usually had appointments. It seemed as if those people didn't want to deal with anything that didn't seem surreal. Anything to do with reality. It was that name they gave themselves; the name that I could never fit under. Perhaps, that was how we fell apart. Or was it how I broke away?... They wanted to pretend nothing was wrong and began to lie to themselves and others to protect who they liked to think were their friends… their affiliates. Lying about each other, and smiling at each other, and curling their faces when they saw anything that was, in fact, an issue dealing with the real world. Because, oh Lord, to them the world wasn't worth whatever they loved to believe "it" was. Let them be who they weren't and do those things that were horribly wrong… scar people and deem everything acceptable; acceptable and… and okay. I never spun outside of that building anymore. I just occasionally tripped in and out much against my will. One stumble while spinning, I found can lead to more if you're not careful… or much too vulnerable. My vulnerability could have very well killed me. I faintly remember a swollen me turned black and blue years following due to my underestimations…my haunting memory of what might have happened if I didn't give second chances. What I wouldn't give to get it back is more than I can count. Dreadful; I still see their Cheshire-cat smiles burning through the walls.