Who Am I?

By ANNA KARPINSKI | Published: November 17, 2009

Everything was glowing. Everything was pulsing with the music and my mind was pounding to the beat. My feet were still, my hips were static. My eyes, however, were flitting from light to light. I was alone. No one was there. The floor was black and the light was eaten up by its infinite darkness. Its abyss. My head was resting back, my neck was craned towards the nonexistent sky. Because right now, the sky was the ceiling. the sky was a series of florescent lights that seemed almost to move with the beat of the drum, with the screech of the guitar. Now my leg twitched. My foot thumped. Then again. Then again. More rapidly. Sound echoed against the curved walls and light danced across my face. My mouth hung open, engulfing the light as it passed by my teeth, making them glow as if they had been dipped in some sort of intergalactic chemical. My toes looked like disco balls when the glow of the room hit the whiteness of my skin, and I let out a soft laugh at the strange image. Now my other foot tapped, echoing out of sync with all the other noises, mixing sounds and creating new ones as I spun around the room now, my arms outstretched as if to fly, my wings exploding from my back to shine against the darkness of the room, the blackness of the space. I am illuminated. My whole body now moves to the rhythm, to the enchanting noise that fills my ears, my heart, every blood vessel in my body. Now I am the music. Now I am the sound, I am the lights. I dance around and my wings spin in circles. My whole being creates what I was once denying. I am not everything I never thought I could be. I am everything I've always dreamed of becoming. My energy pulses through my feathers and darts around the room. They ride on the bass line, they dance to the trumpets. Because of me, the room is no longer black. The room radiates, the room is a dense collection of spirit, of self. I am self. I am my self. I am everything in this world. In this closed in space. I fill it. If I were not there, if I were not dancing, singing, living the music, then all would be dead. All would be silent, all would be abyss again and I would be standing there. I would be still. My feet would be still. My hips would be static. Even my eyes would remain closed to block out nothing because when I can see there's always something. Now there's something. Now I am my feather, now I am a product of myself. Of my own freedom, of my wings .Now I float through the air. I am pushed by by the hums of the instruments, kept afloat by the gentle humming of the static. I am...what am I?

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