Caution: Words Haunt
Watch your mouth!
I opened my door as my alarm clock went off. Actually, that doesn't make sense. If the alarm was going off, then it would've been ringing loudly, whereas right now it was under my pillow so as not to piss of my annoying dad with it's loudness. Shit. I hate losing track of time. I can't stand going to school without sleeping.
I went into the bathroom to take a look at myself. Not too bad. Considering I had just been walking all night. I turned on the shower and began to get ready for it. I loved feeling clean, but not at this cost.
No, not the kind of clean when you rinse and use soap and all. I mean, I loved the feeling of getting free from drugs. But I still needed them. Every time I looked at the medicine cabinet, I longed for them. Pills, any kind. I didn't even care at this point. Or a razor blade. One of the cures.
I looked at the scars that tracked up and down my arms. I'd rather do drugs; that way my problems aren't put up on display.
But I can't sleep. All I can think is how shitty I feel. I need a cure, even if it makes me feel bad afterwards, it's a few hours of peace. I need it!
No. No I don't. Drugs are the cause of my problem.... well, my problem after mom died. My problem after Dad went insane with depression and turned drunk. No, it was my dad's fault, not drugs. I could do drugs; they had done nothing but help me.
I stepped into the shower, tired, but twitching. I couldn't stop moving. I couldn't take my mind off of it! But I had to. If nothing else, than for the fact that I can't risk killing another person just because I said the wrong thing.
It's easy, when your addicted, to give your love... I mean, LOVE, away. It's the easiest way to score drugs in the end. But that's the reason I need to be clean. I slept with him. I told him I loved him. Foolishly, he took it seriously and actually thought I meant it. That's when I started getting stalked. He would follow me, and want to hold my hand, and even bribe me with ecstacy if he wanted my attention badly. But when the day came that I finally told him that I didn't really love him, he couldn't take it.
Whether or not it was because he actually loved me, or because all the booze in him caused him to be depressed, he took a bullet to the head. At least it was instant?
I stepped out of the shower and began to dry off. As I walked to my room to get dressed, I heard my dad wake up. Shit, I had spent an entire hour in the shower!!! I had to change quickly, get out quickly- my dad was a douche in the morning, well, more than in the day at least. I can't handle trying to get clean while he's bitching to me about my problems!
As I pulled my shirt on and grabbed my backpack and shoes to leave, he came from his bedroom. "Hey bitch. How much hot water you waste in the shower?" He asked. Shit. If I left quickly, maybe he wouldn't notice there's no hot water left.
"Gotta run dad!" I yelled and ran out in my socks. It was 42 degrees outside, but cold was way better than dad. I heard him yell from outside the door and started to run in the direction of the school. Even if I walked, I would get there an hour and a half before it actually started. But at least school has no temptations.
I went into the bathroom to take a look at myself. Not too bad. Considering I had just been walking all night. I turned on the shower and began to get ready for it. I loved feeling clean, but not at this cost.
No, not the kind of clean when you rinse and use soap and all. I mean, I loved the feeling of getting free from drugs. But I still needed them. Every time I looked at the medicine cabinet, I longed for them. Pills, any kind. I didn't even care at this point. Or a razor blade. One of the cures.
I looked at the scars that tracked up and down my arms. I'd rather do drugs; that way my problems aren't put up on display.
But I can't sleep. All I can think is how shitty I feel. I need a cure, even if it makes me feel bad afterwards, it's a few hours of peace. I need it!
No. No I don't. Drugs are the cause of my problem.... well, my problem after mom died. My problem after Dad went insane with depression and turned drunk. No, it was my dad's fault, not drugs. I could do drugs; they had done nothing but help me.
I stepped into the shower, tired, but twitching. I couldn't stop moving. I couldn't take my mind off of it! But I had to. If nothing else, than for the fact that I can't risk killing another person just because I said the wrong thing.
It's easy, when your addicted, to give your love... I mean, LOVE, away. It's the easiest way to score drugs in the end. But that's the reason I need to be clean. I slept with him. I told him I loved him. Foolishly, he took it seriously and actually thought I meant it. That's when I started getting stalked. He would follow me, and want to hold my hand, and even bribe me with ecstacy if he wanted my attention badly. But when the day came that I finally told him that I didn't really love him, he couldn't take it.
Whether or not it was because he actually loved me, or because all the booze in him caused him to be depressed, he took a bullet to the head. At least it was instant?
I stepped out of the shower and began to dry off. As I walked to my room to get dressed, I heard my dad wake up. Shit, I had spent an entire hour in the shower!!! I had to change quickly, get out quickly- my dad was a douche in the morning, well, more than in the day at least. I can't handle trying to get clean while he's bitching to me about my problems!
As I pulled my shirt on and grabbed my backpack and shoes to leave, he came from his bedroom. "Hey bitch. How much hot water you waste in the shower?" He asked. Shit. If I left quickly, maybe he wouldn't notice there's no hot water left.
"Gotta run dad!" I yelled and ran out in my socks. It was 42 degrees outside, but cold was way better than dad. I heard him yell from outside the door and started to run in the direction of the school. Even if I walked, I would get there an hour and a half before it actually started. But at least school has no temptations.
♠ ♠ ♠
Just getting started.