I sighed within the heat of crowded bodies and voices. I'm dying of sweat, breathing in air, intoxicated by the humidity as windows tremble at its core. The vibrations along my veins boil and dampen my skin, their skins, capturing tones and rhythms of hip hop, dancing immensely from my ears to the tips of my toes. They surrounded me — begging, needing, craving, desiring — and took over, all of them, from my body to my soul, empowering the bones and muscles in my being. I'm flying, high and high and high into existence, into the world of light, of ecstasy, of passion, of...life. How can this be? To feel so alive! To stand on this chair with my own two feet! To watch bodies drown into the bass and flood within the club lights! To feel this extraordinary and forget what is, and even what was! My vocals! They all fought to escape! They screamed and shouted the words of an explicit song, singing to such lyrics about toxic drugs and sexual awakenings, reaching and gasping for something, but really, nothing at all. Swaying hips, waving arms, pumping chests, rocking shoulders — laughing, breathing, loving — let it all go! I let it all go.
And when I looked to see the rest of them over the beer cans, the red cups and tequila bottles, the remains emerging, escaping, and dancing in the limelight of it all, I surrendered to the music, to feeling, surrendered to God. I let Him guide me — let me feel, love, live. Because that's what it was. It was existing. It was being. It was losing. It was winning. It was freedom. I was where I was supposed to be. Because of Him. I was free.