pain

The music was pounding in my ears, I could feel the bass shaking my body... but that wasn't why I was shaking.  The room was dark, lit only by black lights, and it was warm and smelled like dozens of people.  There are people dancing on the dancefloor, or up front at the bar, but me, I'm the crumpled pile laying on the bench in the darkest part of the back.  You can't hear my choked screams over the music, as pain rips through my body again and again, and it's too dark to see the tears I'm crying as I seize there on the hard wood bench.  And I'm more alone than I've ever been.  If you were paying close attention, you would see the way I'm curled up, and the way my fists are clenched until the knuckles are white.  You may even notice the fact that I'm heaving and gasping for breath in the small intervals of peace that I find time to breath in.  Then the pain comes back.  It feels as if I'm being ripped apart inside, but at the same time, being stabbed by a multitude of knives.  What causes this terrible pain, you may ask?  Nothing that I could tell you about without you locking me up.  Even some of those I thought I could always trust have used me and turned against me.  And as I'm sitting there, convulsing on the bench, my teeth clenched and tears flowing down my face, I can hear them laughing at me in my mind.  I can see them rolling with dirision as they observe my timid attempts to regain my composure.  I can see them gigling in my mind, at my exhausted, limp form.  And I can see them laughing at these words.  Laughing at my life... and finally at my death... what is there left for me now???1