This is my ambrosia, this is my weakness.

The diving clouds, the rising sea,
everything blurs and spins by me.
When I slow down as my feet fail,
I fall, close my eyes and exhale.

I once encountered a prose fiction, which, if found in my possession, would be very incriminating. However, it presented a thought that has remained in my memory ever since. Work, love and dance: three keys to life. Work like you never have to, because that's the only way work will never be boring. Love like you've never been hurt before; nothing is as pure and as deep as first love. Finally, dance like there's no one watching.

I cannot say that I have abided by this philosophy ever since although I did learn to do the last one. The word 'dance' shall, for our purposes, be used to refer to any arbitrary bodily movement, graceful or not. I learned to sway my hips or jerk my shoulders when listening to a ditty. When I was young, someone once bluntly told me I would make an awkward dancer. They were right.

I was not really exposed to music when I was young, hence the addiction the moment I discovered the beauty of it. I began tapping my foot or nodding in time with the music. Then I began moving the upper half of my body; I usually listened to music while sitting in front of the computer. Now, I ditch the computer and listen to music whenever I feel like it. Of course, being freed from the chair meant that the lower half of my body also began moving.

At first, I only danced in the privacy of my bedroom. Even then, I would hear my alter-ego ask, "What on earth are you doing?" Embarrassed, I would stop and resume my work. A little later, I dance and the cycle begins once more. However, a few years of this cycle and I soon found myself answering, "I'm dancing."

After a few years, I began losing control. Dancing, or at least, moving with the music is very addicting. It began taking over as I found my hips bumping someone else when I'm waiting in line. When I once dozed off, I was awakened by my shoulder, which, for no apparent reason, suddenly jerked upwards. Twice I awoke before sunrise to find my arms raised in the air, not knowing how it got there.

Do I mind? Hell no! Once a mortal tastes ambrosia, he/she will never let go. I soon found myself dancing a bit in public. Thankfully, I was surrounded by complete strangers at those times so not much injury was inflicted upon my ego. Nonetheless, it is becoming more difficult controlling myself when a ditty blasts or when drums beat. I'm getting close to embarrassing myself.

Oh well, savor the sense of euphoria while it lasts. It doesn't matter that I am quite an eyesore; to each his/her own, as they say.

"What are you doing?"

That voice was quite different from the voice of my alter-ego. I froze.