Pause.

A feeling of unspeakable joy, of knowing you did something awful but not caring about the consequences. Of saying “to hell with them,” and finally turning your back on a world which would berate you for doing what is perceived to be wrong.

Play.

The feeling of falling off a wave, of hitting the ground before you can get your footing, of connecting with the cold hard cement. The feeling of your heart shattering into a million pieces—like glass, fragile and delicate. The feeling of hope seeping out your pores like beads of sweat, vanishing into the night air. The feeling of being yelled at.

Pause.

The wonder of going against the rules. The bliss of kissing someone you’re not supposed to. The self-empowerment of standing up for yourself. The sweet relief of going against your parents. All the while knowing that when the world hits play, everything will be lost.

Play.

A horrible sensation like coming off a long high. Being slapped. Being hit and knocked off your feet. Getting chastised because of what you’ve done. The consequences of your actions . . . and yet, you regret nothing.

Pause.

Somewhere in the distance, you think you can hear the click of the remote. The world is paused, just long enough for you to revel in the euphoria of being yourself. Long enough to smile and be free, long enough to feel your doubts and fears and worries give way to this state of carelessness. Where you and the ground beneath your feet are all that is left, and everyone else has disappeared into an infinite gray. Peace.

Play.

The remote hits play, and you swear you can hear it. Time starts up again. Those people around you return from wherever they went, and they’re unfazed—and why shouldn’t they be? They don’t know what happened. They weren’t there. They didn’t hear the remote.

But they know what you did. And there’s always a price, no matter how great or small a misstep. Everything in life you have to pay for, and you have no choice but to fork it over. The constant apologies, the groundings, the burden of pain. Things that befall you because you broke the rules. The all-important rules.

Until, that is, the remote hits another button. Until your next mistake. Until another one of those highs, where all that matters is you. And the only emotion you feel is a temporary burst of happiness.

Pause.