My experiences at parties usually goes something like this;
I walk in, not knowing who to talk to, feeling vulnerable and unwelcome. I look around; my senses become overbearing. The green couch seems too bright, the voices too loud, my palms too sweaty. And when no chance for meaningless small talk presents itself, I find a semi-empty nook, hoping a like minded individual would join me. But no prospects appear. That girl with the long blonde hair talking about her drunken weekend, the hockey guy screaming about his many relations with women, the conversations seem to all blur together into one meaningless dialogue. But then I began to notice little things. Maybe it's the way she keeps twirling her hair nervously, or the way he keeps smiling, like a little kid who just saw his first firework show. I begin to stand back and really observe people, sucked into a daze of utter fascination. I melt right into the room, eventually disappearing altogether. I use it to my advantage.At first, I tiptoe along their shadows. If I stay there long enough, they don't seem to notice me slipping beneath their skin, clinging onto the tips of their fingers, their eye lids, the lint on their clothing. I love to slide along the little moons of their cuticles, and go for a ride as they gesture enthusiastically. I love to place myself in between the spaces of their teeth and just lye there;listening to them speak, feeling the vibration of their unique voice, inhaling the scent of alcohol on their breath. But my favorite is when I crawl just beneath the collar of their shirts, where I can feel the fluctuating rhythm of their chests, the warmth of their bodies. I can always tell what mood they're in. Their humour, becomes my humour. Their anxiety, mine. And I just watch and listen, smiling to myself. But once i'm brought back into reality by an obnoxious comment, or a stupid joke, I realize I would never want to talk to them, nor do we have anything in common. And when I get up to leave, I wonder if it's normal for someone to like people objectively, yet dislike them at the same time, and how it's possible to become intimate with complete strangers, on a weird plane of existence that doesn't even exist.
>>> Please c/c my prose/short story?