Storming up the road, I began to think of things from my mother's warped point of view. She could just be worried about my confidence, I figured. Or maybe she's worried that people won't be able to accept me the way I am now.
It's not as though I look.... conventional.
But she had no right to voice her concerns for me the way she did. A more tactful approach may have been better. Or no approach at all, maybe. I shook my head quickly and carried on stalking towards the dance hall. That old hall was the one place I could think things through properly. With no interruptions.
As I walked, yet again, I could not shake the feeling that I was not totally alone with my thoughts. Something at the back of my mind kept fanning the flame that was my paranoia, and that paranoia was taking over my conscious thought with each step that I took.
My bright green eyes darted from left to right and back to left again in the hope of catching something or someone that would be worth being paranoid about. And as before, there was nothing that would have alerted any other person.
A normal person, I thought. Not that I was normal, of course.
Who was I to define normal anyways? What right had anyone? In fact, the definition of the word normal - conforming to the standard of common type - rarely applied to anyone. Ever.
I found that I had arrived at the dance hall. Seeig the outside of the building, with its floor-to-ceiling windows and those big, solid oak doors were an instant confort to me, and a weight was lifted off of my mind. I let myself in with the key Miss Smith had given me last term and wandered straight over to the stereo.
Within a few seconds an instrumental blared from the speakers so loud I could barely hear myself think. I had to be totally alone when working on a solo piece, it halped to detatch myself from the world and the things going on inside it.
I settled into my starting position, and counted out the beats under my breath. When I began, I found myself leaping and swaying in directions I never would have consciously thought to put together. Smiling, I went with the flow I found in the notes that I could hear, testing the mood and the speed of my movements accordingly.
Today would be a good day for dance.