The lights are the pulsing blood in your veins. It's only a school dance, but you get into it, not even caring if you look stupid, you just want it to all go away. You are practically glowing, from your black-light nail polish, your neon arms bands, white/neon clothes to the high lighter writing on your body. Your not even sure what song it is, you hear words and you feel the beat. Grinning at your friends, hoping, wishing praying for the song's choice.
“All right you guys,” the dj announces, “I'm gonna play a slow song now.” How to Love comes on and you start to dance with your friend your hands laced together. He's right past her head, and it's impossible not to see him. You choke back tears smiling every time her eyes meet yours. You can't see who he's dancing with, all you can see is how close they are and how they are smiling. It's only eighth grade. Your not supposed to even like him this much.
They always say it's impossible to be in love at this age. If so why does it feel like my hearts just been crushed. It's impossible for hearts to break, they are only crushed.
After that you dance harder, only stopping once. Pretending that you don't want to run to the bathroom and hide there forever so no one will see your tears. But you can't let them see. You know what they say. There's no people like show people, they smile when the are low. And you can relate to that. Every time someone asks how it is you answer enthusiastically. Hair swinging, smile so wide you think your face is going to break.
Two more slow songs, eight excruciating minutes of loneliness. You're dancing with your friends, but you are alone. All you can do is watch them dance. As your heart is slowly being crushed. You can't go home and cry it out. Friends are sleeping over. You can't let them see you upset. You're supposed to be the happy one, who is always okay, always ready to be weird and supportive. You won't let them.
Maybe you can cry some other time.