You wanted a quiet night in. This hasn't been your week. Why did you agree to this? You want to start a fight. You're fake smiling to make it look like you're having fun. The DJ is more fucked that you are. You want to start a fight. Knee high socks over ripped stockings complete with an attitude. What a joke. If you knew you were going to end up here, you would have dressed down for the occasion. You want to start a fight. You're blog posting on your phone while you dance. Everyone, everything is so generic. You want to start a fight. Sweetheart, you wouldn't know fake Chanel if it was written on the label. Singlets and nose piercings just make you look like every other person in the room and that lollypop is a dead give away. You want to start a fight. She knows everyone, you know nobody except for him, but he doesn't even know your name. Help yourself out, don't try and pull exposed lingerie (let's face it, you look like a slut.) He's wearing a Garnett jersey. You hate Garnett. You want to start a fight. Quick-eze for your intergestion honey? Maybe it's because you're so fat. You're having a panic attack while the bad memories start flooding back. The staircase, the couches, the flashing wall of lights. He has no sense of rhythm so he just dances with his arms. And by him, you mean everyone. The bump really hurts. Any reason to get out, even if it means a fight.S.
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