Party Girl

The deafening music is a monotonous repetition of rhythms with two beats, with enough of an electronic feel to keep the drunken teenagers happpy. I don't know him, and he doesn't care about knowing me. He holds me close and we dance to the music. I feel like pushing him away, pushing the crowds away, and running away to a quieter place. Doesn't anyone else in the swarming, swaying crowd realise the ugly truth as well? Doesn't anyone realise that no one is really dancing, no one is really falling in love, no one is really having fun - the girl over here is trying hard to forget, the one across the room is trying harder to remember, the boy buying drinks at the counter wants to be a man, and the boy twirling me around is scared of being alone. I resist the temptation to run away, and hold my ground - the entry fee I paid for the pretence must cough up its due. I let him hold me because someone said that this is the only way to forget. But I feel like a fool. Because trying this hard only makes it easier to remember.