Bitter.

This is a sad entry.

And a necessary entry.

A few minutes ago my mom came into my room (probably drunk and really tired). She ended up telling me that a kid I knew when I was little overdosed on drugs and died back in August. He was eighteen.

Apparently the kid's dad told my dad about it right after it happened, but my dad forgot.
Mother can't understand why Father could forget such a thing.
Well, lets see, why did he crash the station wagon last friday?
Why did he try to run from the police?
Why did he urinate in someone's front yard at two in the morning?
Why did he hit you, mom?
Oh, that's right.
Because he's an alcoholic. And he'll recover the day he dies.
He's tried. And tried. And tried. Rehab, Alcoholics Anonymous, Detox, Psychiatrists, everything. They all work. For a maximum of six months.

Enough of Arizona, lets take a little adventure up to Michigan, where my ex boyfriend has a full sized binky and candy up to his shoulders.
If you don't know what that means, candy are colorful plastic beaded bracelets that ravers dip in LSD and then suck on.
The more candy, the more acid. The same goes for binkies.
PS; Raver boy has a six year old daughter.

Well, whats the moral of all this, kids?
Don't get yourself into any kind of substance abuse.
You'll end up a lonely toxic corpse.