Somewhere In Brooklyn

38 - December 19

I've been to a few parties before.

Scott and Leslie always giving me a ride, then ditching me to screw upstairs five seconds later after we've stepped foot in the scene of the crime.

Earlier was no different. Everyone was jump-dancing. Dance-jumping. Screaming the lyrics at the top of their lungs even though no one really knows that song. Although I can tell this wasn't the kind of party where everyone's trying to forget or waste their life by drinking and smoking and hooking up with strangers on the secluded corner. I mean, there were alcolhol and drugs involved but still, it was the kind of party we would all want to remember for the rest of our lives.

You introduced me to all of your friends and everyone you know in that party. You didn't kept me at reaching distance, you linked your arm to mine and never let me go. "We're a package deal," you said to anyone who gave our tangled limbs a funny look. You distracted me from the fact that that was my first party ever since my accident by rubbing lazy circles on the back of my hand and telling me stories about anyone who caught our eyes.

Your favorite Christmas song was played, and in that moment, you took my hand. Together, we danced. We jumped.

We lived.