The Desire to Lose Yourself

She’s telling me how alive it makes her feel. I’m sitting, listening with an open mind.

Her eyes undulate with the enthusiasm of her words. Pretty, striking blue eyes. I see the ecstasy in them — electric blue eyes — sparks pulsating in her irises.

“Oh, I love it. The music, the lights, the atmosphere: Everything just comes together!”

I’m observing these blue eyes jump around as she talks about her clubbing experiences. Yes, a joyous blue; but, I also see another blue. A blue that is trying to be silenced.

It’s the blue of the sea. One you may gaze at alone from the shore as the sun peters out its final rays. Darker and stiller, it’s a blue that doesn’t jump around. It just tends to sit. Sitting somewhere deep inside, in a place you don’t like to look at.

“I mean, doesn’t the club make you feel alive? Do you not like going once in a while?”

Softly, I smile — a gesture for her to continue speaking.

“I know, especially with the drinking, it’s not the healthiest thing. But we’re young! These are the years for stuff like this!”

Her mouth continues to speak, and her eyes continue to perform. But the performance is not convincing. One blue is clearly overpowering the other. Desperately, sparks from the irises try to escape through the water’s surface, but the waves just continue to roll. And roll.

Is clubbing not just another way to have ‘fun?’ Does the body not pump with fervour? Does the music not sink through the skin and take possession? Do you not find the company you’re looking for?

When one says they go to the club to “lose themselves,” they are expressing a gem of honesty (albeit, likely inadvertently).

Escapism. But escaping from what, exactly? First, it must be said there is no value in shunning such a thing: Like all opinions, about anything, they are pointless. Second, there is no value in trying to resist such a thing: Like all acts of discipline, they miss the point.

Her mouth continues to speak, but her eyes have already said all there is. The blue sparks have all but fizzled out; the waves, however, continue to roll. Roll, as they always have.

And, tomorrow, they will roll again. And the next day… and the next day.

What she wants absolutely makes sense.

But she’ll never get it.