Shiny Disco Balls.

She blows wisps of smoke into the air and watches as they curl into rings, slowly disappearing into themselves.
It is such a beautiful way to burn out, to dissolve into the very life that one has etched out.
All of the noise in the background thumps inside her skull, as she glances at everybody through kohl-lined eyes.
She shoots an acquaintance a dazzling smile as she hums along to the trance number blaring through the speakers.
An animal of the wilderness, she feels the nonchalance glisten trough the pores of her skin in the liberation that the darkness offers her.
Slowly licking the salt off the rim of her glass of mojito, she bounces off her bar stool to take a walk through the shimmering crowd.
Spots dance in front of her eyes as she bobs her head wildly, letting herself go.
Her hips start gyrating of their own accord, as she shimmies gracefully into a crowd full of women just like her.
She starts easing up, bit by bit, turning on the dance floor to look into the intricacies of the crowd that was enveloped by a haze of smoke and the dazzle of shining stones.
Couples cling fervently to one another as they sway to a combination of industrial, techno, and house. It is a comfortable hold that each exercises over the other, signifying a form of control that causes most people to take the risk of gaining or losing it all, at one shot.
A number of men stand at the boundaries of the group, waiting to infringe into it's very core. In precisely the same manner that a shark with a high speed modem would be able to download staggering quantities of classified information once the fire-walls have crumbled.
She stifles a condescending grin as she watches the femme fatale trying their hardest to look self-absorbed, all the while that their bodies betray their desperation, one foot turned towards the object of their interest. It is primal, base instinct.
Like a bolt out of the blue, a well-dressed member of the opposite sex sidles up close to her.
He wiggles his shock of curly hair about as he leans in to mumble over the noise, "How wasted are you?"
She smiles and says, "Just as wasted as I usually allow myself to be."
It is a mutual acceptance of good-natured ribbing. She allows her arms to twirl around his neck as he deftly latches his arms around her waist, and they begin to sway in tune to the rhythm.
He swings her around as she lets out a high-pitched scream of laughter that seems to find it's way right out of her gut.
She enjoys letting the beat of the music drum it's way through her body. It is an eclectic feeling that makes it's way through the very synapses of her nerves.
She sidles into the warmth of his body as she unwinds her arms from around his neck and wraps them around herself, feeling the whoosh of her breath billowing in her belly.
She picks up two glasses from the array of liquor that seems to make it's way through the dance floor as though unsupported, greedily downing it.
"Easy does it." he mouths.
She shrugs it off.
"I'm addicted to this life-style, getting girls drunk and fucking them into oblivion has become a part of my droll routine. Sometimes, they are so drunk that they don't even know they're being fucked.", he grunts as he looks at her.
His eyes are glassy, his euphoria is easily traceable to too much marijuana.
She raises one eyebrow quizzically and then gently slides his cigarette out from between his fingers, taking quick puffs as she watches his eyes rove over the crowd of women that are slowly progressing off the dance floor. A muffled mixture of jealousy and wistfulness courses through her.
She quickly untangles herself from the side of her that is sensitive to the finer details, dehumanizing herself, shooting him a smile that is 'flawless like some uncut ice'.
Making her way through the crowd, she picks up a quart of lemon from the bowl lying on the counter, letting the juice sting the back of her mouth, the sourness making it's way into her throat.
She turns to look at the shimmering crowd one last time. Even though she can see right through their actions, she is beyond finding any of them shallow. She doesn't deem it insignificance, feeling the significance twist into a dark cloud of fear.
A cry of calm ascends from deep within her, it bubbles in her chest and fizzles her thoughts into complete oblivion.
As she walks outside into the gloom of the night, street-lights glisten in the wake of the cold drizzle.

So laugh in your loneliness, child of the wilderness.
Learn to be lonely.
Learn to be your one companion.
Life can be lived.
Life can be loved, alone.