The Dread of the Freshmen Mixer

I can hear all of the voices from just inside the door, 

The booming cries of rowdy teens who can’t wait to associate and congregate.

I feel the color flooding up to my flushed cheeks,

The acid slowly creeping up my throat. 

I just want to get back in the car and go home. 

There’s no turning back now. 

My hands shake like horribly built structures in a level 5 earthquake.

All I want to do is just cower in the bathroom and cry.

I wish I had a friend with me now to soothe the pain, 

But there’s no one.

I just want to run back out to my car and go home.

There’s no turning back now. 

Some brave explorers try to approach me,

But it’s all just awkward introductions and forced conversation. 

Others try to persuade me to a nice glass of punch, or a hefty plate of chips. 

It’s no use, the butterflies residing in my gut don’t like food much. 

I just want to get in my car, go home, and eat there.

There’s no turning back now. 

There’s this seat close to the door and away from all of the people.

It catches my eye.

I take it up on it’s offer:

I give it some company, and it’ll get me away from all of these crazy teens. 

Why can’t I just run away to one of the couches at home?

There’s no turning back now. 

I didn’t even know what shirt I had on until she brought it up. 

I a Hufflepuff, she a Gryffindor. 

She asked me about my love for Potter, and I obliged to the conversation.

It started out awkward, but it became more enjoyable as the night lingered on. 

What was I saying about wanting to get in the car and go home? 

I guess there’s no need to turn back now.