Crazy

My alarm clock wakes me up at 5:30 in the morning. I don’t want to go to school, but when do I ever want to go?
I get up, even though I don’t want to. I get dressed. I get ready for another day of absolute torture.
My black Bullet for My Valentine sweatshirt is on, over my plain black tee-shirt. I need it to cover the scars on my wrists. I also have black and white checkered skinny jeans on and black converse that I always write stuff on, particularly lyrics.
I walk to school. I have to face the cold harsh winds. I walk and walk and walk. It’s about a mile or two away.

I arrive at the school. I grab my bag, and walk inside.
“Hey,” Ian says, when he sees me walk in. “How’s it going?”
“Life?” I ask in reply. “It sucks, like always.”
I walk through the hallway with my head down. Ian is walking by my side.
“Come on, Cara, life isn’t THAT bad…”
Very good advice coming from a goth kid…
“Okay.”
Now, I smile.
“I’ll try being happi-ER. It still sucks though…”
“Whatever.”

Throughout the school day, I focus on my work, ignoring almost anyone that talks to me…besides my best friends, Ian and Susan and a bunch of other people.
I focus on my school work, until lunch. The time of the day to be social…blah.
“Hey, lovelies,” I say.
“Hey,” Susan replies.
She’s wearing a white tee shirt with a picture of a happy emo penguin on it, that she drew with a marker.
“I love your shirt,” I compliment her.
“Thanks, babes”.
We spend the lunch period, talking about how much our lives suck, and how much Hawthorne Heights speaks to our hearts…until Ian mentions something that is.
“I actually got invited to a party today,” he tells us.
“Really?” Susan gasps. “That’s a first.”
“Ew,” I reply. “I wouldn’t go if I were you. Too many preps.”
“No,” he says in response. “I think I’m actually going to go…you guys can come too if you want. I’d prefer if you did.”
“No…”
“Come on, Car, it will be fun…” Susan tries convincing me. “We can make fun of all of them…we can get WASTED.”
“Oh alright. I’m not drinking anything though. Remember, I’m a straight edge.”

When I get home, I get ready. I take off my black emo clothes, and try to find something nice to wear.
I’m still not sure I want to go. I’m thinking about telling Susan and Ian that I’m sick and that I can’t make it to the party.
The guy throwing it is a dumb jock named Brad. He’s blonde and all the preppy girls are in LOVE with him. I don’t get why though. He’s disgusting. I’m surprised he even bothered to invite Ian…
I find a black tutu from Hot Topic. That will do. It’s good enough, I guess. Better than anything else I own. I also throw on a black shirt with a white collar.

Ian and Susan pick me up in Ian’s dad’s old black truck. The truck’s radio is on. It’s blaring Hawthorne Heights.
“COME ON,” Susan says. “Let’s partaay for a change.”
I shake my head, modestly.
“Come on, maybe we’ll even get a chance to become popular.”
“That’s not what I want,” I try to explain to her.
“Everyone wants to be popular. You think we’re really emo because we want to be? It’s all bullshit…”
I roll my eyes.
I’m not even so sure I want to go to this party anymore, if I was sure to begin with…

We arrive at the party. It’s not exactly my cup of tea, if you know what I mean. Loud music is blaring – hip hop, my favorite…NOT! And it reeks of weed. There’s smashed beer cans all around the house, and there’s way too many people for my liking. Preppy people.
We walk into the kitchen, our heads hanging down, looking at the ground, like an average group of un-average emo people.
“Want a drink?” Susan asks me.
“I told you a million times,” I tell her. “I’m straight edge…aren’t you too?”
“Well, yeah...but that’s only because I’ve never gotten a chance to try any drugs. Anyway, this is just drinking too.”
I roll my eyes.
“You sure you don’t want a drink?” she asks. “Not even just one beer?”
I don’t know what to say. I’m tongue tied. I think about it for a moment. Maybe the only reason I’m straight edge in the first place isn’t because I don’t want to try it. I’m not saying I’m like Susan and only am straight edge because I can’t do drugs, but I think maybe the reason I don’t do drugs, don’t smoke, and don’t drink is because I’m afraid. I’m afraid of what it will do to me. It’s not so much that I’m afraid of dying…it’s mostly that I’m afraid of the things I will do once I’m drunk or stoned. I want to have control of my own mind, I guess. But by not drinking, I’m letting the fear control me. In reality, I do want to try it. Who knows? Maybe it will be relaxing. I could use a little relaxation in a place like this…
“You know what?” I ask in response. “I think I’ll try it. Just one, though.”
Ian hands me a bottle of Budweiser.
I gulp a sip down and a horrible taste fills my mouth.
“It’s gross,” I tell them.
But the gross taste doesn’t stop me from drinking more…