on holding on

I'm unusually hard to hold on to.- Sara Bareilles (Love Song)
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I'm a flurry of motion and words that make no sense to anyone but me-

Je ne comprende pas!

I smile and my eyes dance as I curl up even more on the edge of the dingy couch in the back room of a house I've never been in before tonight. There is something comfortable still,

though.

The boys around me laugh and try to guess what i'm saying, but I simply refuse, replying:

je ne sais pas.

I will not break.

Someone sits down next to me, I don't remember who. Or if I knew who- His accent is much better than mine,

as he asks me how I am.

Comme ci, comme ca.

I shrug, he smiles.

He begins talking to me, and I couldn't tell you if I remember much of what he was saying, if I was even listening, until he says-

you have a pretty face.

I break-

really?

He smiles and nods, and I forget who says those words as soon as I hear them, as I am pulled away to engage in yet another conversation with another person.

I need something -someone- to hold me still.