My hunger

There are times when we get extremely thirsty. The thirst starts from down there, near the umbilicus, but so very deep. It starts as a small, round mass. As tiny as a clear marble. Then it grows. It expands. In a fraction of a second, it grows so big till it occupies the whole abdominal cavity. The thirst then pushes onto the diaphragm and makes you hungry for air. That mass of thirst now is so overwhelmingly powerful that makes you want to let it out. It makes you wanting to grab a paper and write it all down. It makes your legs shake vigorously. It makes your fingers rattle. It makes you feeling out of place. It makes you feel so strong yet insufficient. It creates tiny pricks of pain near your lungs. It makes you wanting to prove. That this is what I have been missing. That this thirst is one thing I need to lunge forward. That this is something I want to do for the rest of my life. Not because of him. Not because of them. But just because, this is me. This thirst is me. The thirst to dance.

Please God, give me a chance to dance again. I am not sure whether I am doing it right, now. I want to stand on that stage and be blinded by those lights. I want to see myself in that mirror flexing my muscles and straining my bones. I want to spoil my skin with heavy foundations and glitters. I want to cry because I have to learn a difficult choreography. I want to fly in lines and arches. I want to dance. I want to dance. I want to just dance for the rest of my life. I need to dance.