The Dance

We all go round and round. Partners of lost and found. Looking for one more chance. All I know is, We’re all in the dance.

***

Once upon a time there is a moment of time. A musical one. Notes are tuning from every corner to every whisper. People are dancing all the time. One to another. Some tangled in laughter. Others throw each other smiles. Some, in tears. Some at the dawn as they greet the sun. Some, in the moonlight, in the middle of the night. Some under the sunny sky. Some, under the pouring rain.  Time it was. It was time.

She is just a dreamy little girl. Growing up in a way she knew well of protecting her dreams and making it come true. Fragile as you can see how fast she run every now and then. Afraid that her pieces will fall apart. She observes this people dancing all around. She used to dance. Three times. All ended up in tears. She was not a good dancer. She built walls, blocking people away. These dancing were only to hurt each other. She does not believe in the intention of dancing. If one day she should dance, it’s because somehow, divinely, the universe conspire her to. Irrevocable dance, it should. It is all impossible, until that day. The day she realizes her heartbeat for that man. She does not like him. She despises him sometimes, but she could not get him out of her mind. They have been befriended for more than twelve seasons. He is a joker. He loves dancing. He loves his dance partners. He dances well. He dances in laughter, mockery and witty words. He is wearing mask most of the time. But not when he is with her. They are different. In principal. In the way they dance. In the way they see the righteous way to dance. In the way of dancing.

She is all ready to run. The erratic heartbeat should be reset into a flat line. No. It might get chaotic. No. The heart should be protected. No. Run. No. And then come his hand. An offer for a dance.

I am afraid to dance with you. I should run. | Don’t be, I’ve been waiting for you to ask me for a dance. Don’t run.
We are different. | It’s a time for a dance.
What for? | I don’t know. Let’s just dance.
I don’t use to dance. I might hurt you. Step on your foot. | It does not matter, as long as it’s you
But I don’t want to get hurt | I won’t hurt you. Why don’t you trust me?
I might hurt you. I might forgot how to dance . | “I’m in for this dance. A long one.
I might disappoint you. Would you leave me when I do? | Of course not. You’re different from the rest.
I trust my hand in yours. Be careful. | I will. 
What if… | There is no what if. It is here, now.  A dream come true.

And so they start dancing. Music flows from every whisper to every corner. Swirling around, one another. Some in laughter. Some in smiles. Some, in mockery. Some at the dawn as they greet the sun. Some, in the moonlight, in the middle of the night. Some under the sun. Some, under the starry sky.  Time it was. It was time. The girl finds herself dancing differently. It’s not like any other dance she had. She bend herself a lot in this dance. She modifies herself. She learns the steps and moving to get along even though she does not like it. Somehow this stubborn little girl is compromising herself for the dance. His foot stepped on her sometimes, most of the time. His rough and rude manner hurts her here and there. She screams in her heart, of pain, of anger, of disappointments. But she keeps dancing. And she wonders why on earth she keep doing this, because of this man. Oh this could be different. This could be real.

Why me, Girl? | I don’t know. I have no reason. It just happened. Because of you.
I might hurt you… | It does not matter Girl. I does not matter as long as I got you. It’s different with you.

And so they carry on dancing. Music are flowing from every whisper to every corner. But time it was and it was time.

She slipped on herself. Stumble and fall. She reaches for his hand. She told him she got blurry. Because of seeing how other people is happy doing their dancing. She was insecure of her self, she mistook the step and then her face hit the ground. She manages to back up again. Feeling ashamed, she tries to get back to the pace again. She sees the joker she’s dancing with. She explains what happened. She could tell the he is disappointed. There are no smiles in his face. No mockery. No snickering. She starts moving again. Swirling. But there is something missing in this dance. There is no partner. She’s looking all around. He is not there.

Her gaze sweeps rapidly around the room. Every direction. Looking for him. Looking for the one she had promise herself to spend her dancing with. And there he is. Doing the dance with someone else.

What are you doing? | I have my priorities, Girl. I am doing it right now.
What happened to our dance? | I can’t tolerate mistakes. I’ve seen enough mistakes. I don’t need more.
But I told you before the dance, I might disappoint you…. | You should be more aware. You saw me dancing before. You know my move well. You should be more aware.

And you think you have no mistake to me all this time? You think you are so righteous all this time? | I told you. 

Why? | We are so different. I hate the difference. I hate it so much.
But you said it does not matter. You said we could work it out. | Sorry I wanted the best for you. I’m just a boy, needs a lot to learn to be a man.
You are a man | I don’t know. I lost myself.
You lost yourself? | Yes. But I’ll manage. Things will get better, eventually.
What happened to the dance? | I told you. You made mistakes.
What do you want right now? | I don’t know.
What should I do? | You……………. be patient.

What should I do? Those words ring in her head over and over again. Be patient. His epic final words. Plugged in her ears that she could not listen to the music anymore. Left alone standing, staring blankly around. No music heard. No clear vision. Gravity becomes her best friend. And there she is, free falling.

 

She hates herself for even thinking of doing the dance.

She despises herself for trusting human.

She is disgusted with herself for being off guard handling out her heart to a human being.

 

***

 

They said it takes two to tango. But was it really a tango?

Oh dear, Amygdala… You’re a mess.

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