I could feel my heart in my skull, pounding against the bone and echoing of the walls. The lights burning my eyes, I squint slightly, damn vision. My mouth is suddenly dry, I want to get off the stage and get water, soda, anything, but I can't. I'm damned here.

  Figures that wear their shadows like a dress sit before me, their eyes boring into me and searching for anything to persicute me. A puppet, that's what I am, merely moving my mouth words tumbling out while inside I'm too dumbstruck by the eyes of my opponents.

  Here everyone is a hidden enemy, you must conceal your intentions and play the poker game right. Can't show your hand, eyes darting left and right, keep the pocker face on or else you'll lose. Am I losing? I can't tell. The clanging of wood hitting wood rings in my ears, isn't that a signal that your speech has to finish? Almost like the sound of chips being shuffled toward the winner, the winning high, I'm now in dept.

  Should I walk briskly off or move on, I must live through it for I have Monday to look at. Time can't stop and I'm no exception. Should I speak again? The idea sends new feelings crawling down my throat and into my lower gut, I feel nausous again.

  Whispers, eyes shifting, a game of witts and fear, it's almost like Monopoly. I laugh a little, but the feelings get worse. The one I needed, someone I could count on and smile at, isn't here. Divide but a thin layer of cement and paint called a wall. I'm with two others, we aren't suppose to speak so I'm left to dwell with my own feelings.

  Hard? Yes, it is. Many who know what they say and do, enjoying such political discussions. I feel like a fraud, I hold no interest in politics but enjoy the manner of it, I don't know what bills to pass or what bills congress is passing, and I certainly do not understand the rules of it. Too paranoid, the old scar reopens when forced to deal with those judging eyes that wait for you to slip up. I can almost feel the blood trickle down my chest dripping down to the polished floor.

  But the thrill, like an addictive drug, I must have more; just one more, perhaps two. Night is upon me and I waste my sleep to relax my already anxious nerves. Just another worry in my life as a ninth grader.