Self Portrait As An Internet Dancer

sketchfab

The mirror lies on my bed, a silvered shield that reflects me back to myself. I gaze into its depths, and our eyes meet in a flash of recognition. The room around us is dimly lit, the shadows cast by the flickering screen of my phone like dark tentacles reaching out to snatch at my ankles. My arms are splayed across the mattress, my hands curled into loose fists as if I'm about to launch myself off the bed and onto the floor. My legs are tucked up beneath me, a ballerina's pose that belies the tension coiled within. My face is tilted upwards, my eyes narrowed in concentration as I attempt to capture this moment - this fleeting instant of introspection. My fingers dance across the keyboard, each keypress a delicate step in an ethereal ballet. The words flow from me like water, a ceaseless stream that pours onto the page and spills out into the void. My thoughts are a maelstrom, a whirlpool that sucks everything in and spits it back out again, transformed. And I am the conductor of this mad symphony, my mind a maestro's baton that leads the orchestra of my thoughts through the chaos of creation. The notes are discordant, the rhythm frenetic, but somehow it all comes together to form a beautiful, haunting melody that speaks directly to the soul.