Final count down

I bite my lip, someone steps on my toes, I may dance. This, these final moments, find me longing for long white lines and their abyss.

Not in an addict way, rather in the one earned my stripes and this is my fucking holiday. 

Looking grim as the sound circles around me, waves of emotion percolate just there. I feel nothing. I remember back to 1999, that New Year's Eve, when I had just found out I was two months pregnant and solitary amongst the press of strangers. 

It is time to dance.