Maybe I'm just growing up.

I was saddened tonight by the way young people crumble, turn into a pack of savage dogs at the mere hint of conflict and blood. I watched a group mingle and tangle and fall into fight; I heard the sickening smack of flesh against flesh. Like one entity the boys swelled and surged, their frenzied curses and exclamations becoming a united howl of misdirected anger and pain. I almost cried when I saw one of them be kicked hard in the head. I did not cry; I forced myself not to react overtly lest I do something to anger that maddening crowed of teenage boys and their moll-like girlfriends.

Teenagers.

I am a teenager - why do I feel so old in comparison to them?

They took their fight onto the train tracks - I suspect to appear tougher than they really are. The next train wouldn't arrive for approximately five minutes; it seemed to be an elaborate show of theatrics. I heard glass break and more cries from the crowd, egging their friends on in the brawl. One girl shielded her eyes and muttered, "I can never watch this."

What? She witnesses this on a regular basis? Why does she put up with it? These are questions I ask to thin air. No-one has answers to the things I want to know. I may never understand this sad behaviour.

Later the fight dissolved, out of my sight. I don't want to know about the cuts and bruises sustained from this match; all I can recall are moments and flashes. Their baggy pants and colourful tops, their stances and the way the air reeked with more-hardened-than-thou attitude. Tattoos and words said harshly, cigarettes passed around and calls placed on mobile phones. Drug deals, perchance? Finding out where the next rave is? Calling home to explain a broken curfew? The last is hardly an option.

After the threat of another brawl had passed, their train arrived. This didn't mean that there were none of them left; there was another gang, one less involved in these goings on, left standing on the platform. Two girls pretended to have a bitch-fight, giggling with ever over-exaggerated gesture. One of them went into the female restrooms and mock-screamed, acting as though se were being raped - a sick, sad joke only funny to some in this world we inhabit.

In the midst of all this, my mind drew back to my arrival at the station this evening. Three teenagers passing out fliers for a rave party - I hoped to walk by them in my usual "invisible" manner, but this was not so. One of them handed me a flier and invited excitedly, "Come, come, com!", then laughed cruelly as he pulled it back, saying with a sly grin, "Nah, just kidding."

Rejected by an element I don't even accept.

Lovely.

Maybe I should suck it up and get a day job to avoid nights like this.

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