Restless Heart Syndrome

Music- pounded in my ears and my heart was rapidly pulsating at the heavy bass. The way it vibrated the red solo cups scattering the venues.

People- falling in love for the night with whoever was willing. Trashing the venue, because if they don't have to clean up, who cares right? Their jumping never ceasing.

Lights- seemed to flicker making my head pound , or it was whatever the hell the weed was laced with. They strobed taunting , my pounding head and heart.

Me- I never left the dance floor. I had my high and mixing it with whatever the punch was spiked with seemed like the perfect cocktail for me. I was too trashed to leave, and honestly, I
didn't think I wanted to. The guy on my right kept making his way over to me and he had better make a move soon, or I would.

Air- there was never enough of it at those parties. It was always bitter with weed and alcohol. Every room was overcapacity with bodies. There was always glitter and confetti ruining the minuscule amount of oxygen.