Bruised Palms

The stars were muffled that night. I was drenched in rainwater. I wasn't trying to prove anything I swear, but everytime I felt absolutely complete and realized, in retrospect, I was behaving exactly like a five year old.

I stole a tambourine, with its owner right beside me, not minding. In my detached state, i only vaguely realized that all the people involved in the rhythm were ten years my junior. No big deal. But I find as I get older I have to accept social realities that are different from my own, or at least ignore them. It wasn't about socializing that night.

When I woke up the next day my palms were bruised. A bruise had never felt so good.