Glitches in My Code

Flowing

I step and twirl as I clean, dancing with nobody watching and a vacuum cleaner for a dance partner. I bow as the vacuum moves ahead of me, taking on all roles in this strange dance. I feel the music flow through my mind, and I sing softly as I dance, my headphones my entire world. The music moves my limbs on its own, and I simply make sure I remain productive. They told me to clean. They didn't tell me not to enjoy it. 

The movements of the vacuum remind me of a lady I saw, many years ago. She twirled and spun in and out of her partner's arms, ending the beautiful yet unearthly movements with his limbs wrapped around her. I know I'll never reach that level of prowess- I simply don't care enough- so this is as close as I can get. I don't mind that my only partner is and will always be an inanimate object, designed to rid this world of dust and dirt. I simply want to be able to let the music control me.

I dance when I can, spinning, completely alone, through my room as I make my bed, balancing on one foot, other leg extended behind me, as I reach for the contents of a drawer. I move my feet to my music, both internal and external, as I move around my room, searching for the book I know to be hidden within its walls. I sing and I dance, though I rarely do both. The few occasions I do are often when the music is soft and slow.

I dance because it's silent but expressive. You need neither equipment nor lessons to do it, and it's one of the most freeing activities in existence. I dance alone because I fear others, but also because I love the loneliness of it all.

I do indeed dance outside of my room, though never quite to the same extent. The dances I do are for myself, and that is all. I dance for myself, so outside of my own bubble, the most exquisite thing I do is bring one foot to my ankle as I stand.