Yesterday night while we were (joyfully) drenched from the sudden midnight shower, a friend grabbed my damp shoulders, looked me straight in the eye and thoughtlessly screamed out one word: Life.
Right then & there, I swear I could hear the clickety clack of my mind over the deafening live music and frenzied cries of adoration. That was what my whole body had been trying to tell me all night. The heat in my eyes which I had hastily brushed off as product of fatigue. The funny way my heart went wham & bam along with the booming drums like it had something to prove. How my legs kept twitching about like they were separated from my upper body. The way my hands begged my brain to seize the hand of the nearest festival-goer so that I could feel their fingers pulsing with the same adrenaline that flooded the underside of my sweat-stained flesh.
It was a moment of infallible certainty. I felt alive. Not just the breathing in & out, routine part of life that I was wholly accustomed to; far from it. I felt life's underbelly, it's mystical cousin twice removed, the width & breadth of life's infinite spectrum; with my rain-soaked hair (also one of the best feelings in the world, but we'll get back to that later) and my clothes sticking to me like second skin, I felt it.
And from now on, I'll always have a permanent itch to feel that way again.
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