#Pride and Joy

I suppose, if I'm honest, I spent a lot of my life pretending to be someone I wasn't. It didn't seem that way at first — didn't seem like a lie. I was just taking the easy path, keeping my parents happy, as any dutiful daughter should. Avoid conflict. Avoid confrontation. Avoid drama. And it was working.

I just didn't realise that I was losing myself in the process.

With my friends, I could be a little more myself. They were my safe haven, a little carved-out refuge in a swirling sea of fear and distrust, all of us outcasts, conforming with our non-conformity. But even that became a performance. We'd sit around in deep discussion about the wrongs of the world, pontificating on some topic or other, quoting philosophers or authors anywhere we could as it was easier than having ideas of our own.

I'd say something like "More people should see that history is nothing more than a tableau of crimes and misfortunes." and someone else would counter with "Ah, but it is difficult to free fools from the chains they revere." Then, we'd all nod wisely, sipping drinks we didn't really like and congratulating ourselves on escaping the chains of society by living on its outskirts like it was something we'd chosen for ourselves.

Scott only managed to convince us to come to the club by claiming it would be ironic.

Of course, we clung to the walls at first, used to life on the fringes.

The music was loud. The air was thick with the musk of sweat and booze and smoke. The floor was sticky and the lights hurt my eyes. I hated it.

Until I saw you.

You were in the middle of the dance floor. Of course you were. You were spinning around with your arms outstretched and head tilted back, hair flowing and swaying around you, shimmering in all the colours of the rainbow under the electric lights. Your eyes were closed and your face was painted in an expression of pure joy.

I couldn't help but smile just to look at you.

And when you looked at me, eyes twinkling, I thought my heart had stopped.

Suddenly, the music wasn't too loud. It filled my world, surging through my soul. The lights weren't glaring — on you, they were beautiful. The air was thick with the scent of life, and when you beckoned, I braved the stickiness of the dancefloor.

Conversation was impossible. Anything more than a single word shouted in an ear was lost to the beat. But we didn't need words.

It was the freest I'd ever felt, letting myself go as I swayed and spun and shimmied.

And when you took my hands in yours, the electricity in the atmosphere and the music and the lights surged through my veins. Then, as you drew me closer, that tingle of static grew to the roar of lightning until our lips met and...

It might have been a cliché that would have made me and my friends roll our eyes and groan, but when we kissed, sparks flew. The tickle of your breath. The heat of your skin against mine. The taste of your coconut lip balm.

I thought my chest would burst with the joy bubbling inside.

From that moment on, my grin refused to fade, no matter how much my face ached. I stared into your eyes as we boogied the night away.

Disco has held a special place in my heart ever since, as have you. To be so truly yourself — so free of fear or worry or shame. To be proud of who you are. To simply let go. People are embarrassed by it, but I love it.

Perhaps our story could have had a different ending. If I'd clung to your hand when the music finally stopped. If I'd followed you back into the real world. If I'd ever learnt your name. But perhaps that night was everything I needed it to be, and anything more would have just been greedy.

So, whoever you were, wherever you are now, thank you. Thank you for that one perfect night. Thank you for helping me find myself. Thank you for helping me be free.

WC: 708

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