Of venting and why I should not felt cold

It is August the 17th. I am 45 years of age. And I just froze. At the chance of opportunity. At the atonement from comeuppance. I am socially crippled, I have told myself oh so many time that the best I can is good enough. However... Dreaming might at times be the beginning of what lies ahead, you know, the fuel of being able to alter one's surroundings by life starting to feel as if it were in motion. I was actually dreaming of something similar some days ago while in the shower, feeling the cold water running down my body, while I was smiling, while I was hoping for a tiny bit of hope one of these days, you know, like I was falling off a 25 story building and out of nowhere a giant cushion just popped up and saved me. Like the airbag in a song. Yeah, I have told myself all them last 5 years that I am ready. I might have been, but I will never know. Not until I go down crashing and burning and an utmost, haphazard piece of luck lays eyes on me I dare say something.

Beer is so good at me, I reckon. It softens the blow of being clumsy. It makes singing outloud easier. This brief moment in which I sip it washes it all existential fog away. Yes, I did squat. Yeah, I looked forwards as if nothing was happening. It don't matter. I can dance and keep drinking until the future is a simple tense.

Don't you say you weren't moved... I mean, he saw you. Discretely, but he did. Did you not feel like blushing? Like what happened the other day was not an accident and you looked at each other and wished you were closer and felt a soft tingling in the skin like when the guy you like whispers how they would like to kiss you if you knew who they were and they knew who you were and still being complete strangers since you could not know each other's names and you would think this is not you and how you should not do this cause this is not you... Yet it is exciting, isn't it? The bare feeling of desiring a stranger right then, right there, without pondering if you would ever meet again. Who cares, right? Who the fuck cares when the moment burns every single inch of skin and you can only melt?

I melted. I am still.