Seizure-inducing lights
A reverberant bass
Unfamiliar faces
One cold drink
She wishes to dance
Yet she also wishes to be a part of the wall
To go home
Stretching her introverted-ness as far as it would go
It is simply exhausting
To have to pretend
Pretend she likes this drink
Pretend she likes to be here
Pretend that these are her friends
To simply talk to new people drains her,
Saps her of all strength
As if a constant reminder that she will never belong
That she should simply stick to her own time because
It is so much
EASIER
Than pretending
She could pretend to like this song
She could pretend that she wants to be here
She could pretend that she simply wishes to be home
So she does
She sits
Pretending
On the outside
She talks
She mingles
Does what she thinks
or assumes is right
On the inside she is withdrawn,
The conversations mean nothing
Except a way to pass time until it is acceptable to leave
As the hours pass
So does the feeling of inane uncomfortable-ness
Or does she only feel that way as she has succeeded in looking normal at another party
Another
STUPID
Party
Is she overthinking?
Probably?
Maybe?
Should she enjoy this?
Is this intent hate for parties a cause for a changed mindset
Or a changed setting?
As the clock ticks midnight
She can no longer pretend
Or can she pull off one last charade?
Feigned intoxication
To finally escape.
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