Goosebumps flood your body, colonizing any resemblance of comfort
Anger of the audacity closes your throat
Your face is smoldering as you try to keep your cool
The eyes of your peers peer into every piece of you
A seemingly sudden self-consciousness subverts serotonin
As adrenaline drives you crazy
Your eyes, nails, voice, face, clothes, legs, individually scrutinized
Still seated in the group, reservation and isolation rip the floor from under you
The pit in your stomach swallows you whole
You shrug
You smile
You nonchalantly reassure
All because you didn’t want to ruin the night
"I don’t have a problem with gay people... just don’t try to hit on me"
Lance Watkins
28