i am here

I went to a Coldplay concert on saturday. They were preceded by two bands, Bishop Briggs and Alessia Cara. Both were excellent. It was the first concert I've ever been to and it was hands down one of the most incredible nights I've had in a really long time.

Section the first: I am there.

I can feel the music reverberate through the air, the drums beating in my sternum. My lips part and I'm flying, caught up in the exuberance of her expression, her closed eyes and dancing lights. I know she belongs in her skin and I long to belong in mine. I can't hear what she says, but I can hear what she feels. She offers up her soul to the crowd and it rolls across the seats, collecting energy and light and love, rising and filling the room with vibrancy.
He's filling up so much space for being so small. The noise is overwhelming and all consuming. I become part of everything and nothing and I forget that there is anything that isn't light and love and music. He spreads his arms, hugging the air and grabbing energy up in his palms. He consumes the stage, claims it and travels with such manic confidence it takes my breath away. He must feel so free.
If I close my eyes I float. The music and clapping and singing and cheering meld together and surround me, fill my skull with wind chimes. It is almost quiet. There is almost too much to comprehend, and I feel oddly cleansed. There is so much being forced into me that there is no room for my own thoughts, my own emotions, my own worries. I have achieved a clarity I did not think possible.

Section the second: I am here.

I am sitting in class under the glare of stagnant florescents. The whir of an air conditioner, shuffling feet, breaths and murmurs, rehearsed speech and broken discussion. There is too much room for my thoughts and doubts, so much that they extend beyond the solitary sphere of my core. They lengthen outward in waves, altering my expression and manner, brushing out of the folds in my clothes and tying my hair into knots. My body feels as empty as the room, like I could deflate or collapse. I want to leave, to walk out of the door and into the clouds.
But They are in my way. These paper people with their lists and landmarks and I'm suffocating. I can't even feel my heartbeat anymore because I've stuffed myself full of boxed information and there just isn't room for passion in the blueprints of my warehouse chest. The inefficiency of caring is too much of a cost. Better wrap it up because I don't have time for concerts and stories, so a beating heart would just get in the way. My stagnant heart sits behind a desk and waits for the clock to stop ticking.