Last Friday

So last Friday, I was hanging out with people like I do every Friday because, lets face it, campus life is pretty frickin' sweet. Anyways, I was in someone else's room diggin' life with the regulars and a whole bunch of strange people came in the room - a whole bunch as in the room was now packed. Now, contrary to popular belief, I actually do like people. If I didn't like people I wouldn't have met the regulars at various similiar "packed room" parties. However, I think I unconsciously send very offputting signals to people because people very rarely approach me. So there I was, in a room packed full of people - completely alone. I'm just damn talented like that. It's also prudent to mention that I had had more than a couple drinks by this point (Que lastima!). So then I did what any normal person would do at a bumpin' party (Is bumpin' a good adjective now?), I sat upside down on the couch and wrote in my little notebook. One person asked me what I was writing and I told him "magic"... okay, so maybe some of the offputing signals aren't subconscious. Anyways, I wrote this... thingy - I don't even know what to call it, or what to think about it. It's just everything that went through my head for about ten minutes and I'm not sure if I like it or if I hate it and want to set fire to it and forget about it forever... Which is only a little disturbing cause what if I hate the stuff I think about? Anyways, here goes

Dancing circles the generations of mine talk and walk the night away and I'll watch as they flood in overloaded.
Why do you all have to talk so loud?
Why can't you let the girls have centerstage?
I'm too incapacitated to be bothered but you're all still around me.
Where did they come to?
I want to talk to all the queers and freaks and geeks of this generation
What makes us us?
Will it ever end?
When the night closes, who will remember it?
Where goest thy penetrating libido in the teenaged night under the sun?
Why am I here?
I don't belong but there's an invite in my back pocket - purely for the experience
None of them can talk and I can't understand it so I'll take another swig and drop into their world while they dig each other and I'll dig them; carefree and lost sucked into each other's worlds that'll be forever on my outscape.
This poem is shit
I still like it
My ears are dead like a beaten horse and static radio deadness infiltrates my mind while the pretty people walk past.
Why can't I be one of them?
I'm too me
All the madness is around me and I'm sane
That makes me insane
A bead of drunken ecstasy flies through the air and lands on my face giving out a feeling -
A true feeling
I hate them all and love it all the same
Kacie comes and tells me to get up but I can't - too lost
Can't find where I fit but everything is good and wild and screw the world cause here is the future stumbling in your living room and corrupting your children.
Dear God: Why aren't I apart of it
Sometimes I cry at night because nobody gets it
Sometimes they dance at night because they do

The weird part about this is that I really really enjoyed Friday... like alot. I dunno, I'm strange I guess.