Pretty Girl Walking

March 10, 2017

I attended my first ever university-hosted event and I’ll have to admit it was one of the best experiences I’ve had in a long while. I met more of the people whom I thought I’d lost all hope in finding more of–the incredible type of people who know right from wrong, who give you reassurance that there is nothing wrong with being weird because “that just means you’re different,” whose dimpled smiles give you comfort in a strange and unfamiliar world, never leaving your side unconditionally.

And despite my slight loss of hearing and speaking and the intense ringing in my ears, I can’t forget how easily I’d become comfortable in a place and time I never thought comfort was even possible.

I ran into folks from my high school and made awkward conversation, unsure of how well the hiatus in our communication had started, bad or good note. The other performers left the building half dressed in their costumes, grasping bouquets in one hand, props in the other, ready to go home, altogether.

By the end of the night, my best friend and I parted ways in the parking lot, leaving me to my thoughts while other dancers and their friends lingered by their cars, blasting music, all the dance still not out of them quite yet.

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