Forever and Goodbye

Every teenager reaches the age where they dream of escaping their lives. Take 5 years ago, for example: I would have laughed at the idiot telling me that I, of all people, would become a runaway, and yet, here I was.
Normally, my dreams of leaving involved my beat up Toyota, the backseat packed with memories of the days I was leaving behind... Yet somehow, I was now finding myself shifting uncomfortably on a public bus, a fake I.D. in my pocket, and the fruity smell of my recently-dyed, black hair lingering in my nostrils.
I eyed the strangers waiting outside, burying their worries in piles of smoke. If only I could get my hands on a bloody cigarette, I repeated for the thousandth time today. Quitting was not easy, I'd come to realize, especially when I was dropping all of my addictions at once. See, I used to be that good kid you'd see walking home from church on a Sunday morning with her stereotypical Catholic parents, her ugly pink Cardigan and cheap Wall-Mart sneakers. I used to be innocent; until I met her.
Her name was Callie, a pretty little toothpick of a girl who ran with the "wrong crowd", a bad influence, some might say... But to me, she was perfection. Callie was exactly what I needed to avoid, but from the moment she first said my name with those full ruby red lips, I was hooked. She showed me life could be more than waiting for the day I would see those Pearly Gates; Callie showed me life could be a new adventure every day. Being friends with Callie meant throwing out my pink monstrosity, in favor of short shorts and band T's; it meant goodbye Holy Water, and hello Jack Daniels. After she introduced me to alcohol, so came my new friendship with the cigarettes, and soon enough I was coming out of the closet as the bisexual that I am... And let me tell you, bringing my first girlfriend home for supper and kissing her good night may not have been the best move I could have picked to inform the parents, but at least I tried.

I felt a sharp shove against my shoulder, taking me out of my reverie; those days were long gone now, no need to replay those last two miserable years of being the worst daughter to ever walk the Earth. I looked to my left, the offender muttered a quick apology and continued trying to wrestle his humongous carry-on bag into the upper cubby, and absolutely failing at doing so. I turned away almost as briskly as he had, and tried to ignore the ridiculously strong smell of smoke coming from behind me. Just three more days; three more days in this stuffy bus and I'd be free. Callie would meet me out in the country like we'd agreed, we'd take the next flight out of there and I'd be gone forever: Juliana Richards would never be heard of again; only Tara would remain.
As the engine started rumbling once more followed by a quick head count, my mind drifted back to the reason why I had decided to run away in the first place:
Exhibit A: The drugs. Pot, Ecstasy, Acid; Exhibit B: The booze. Beer, Vodka, Jack D; and Exhibit C: the insufferable trips to confessional after confessional, and my dear old folks convinced they
could purge the "demon" from my insides.
Once they found my stash of personal medicine (A.K.A packs of smokes, drugs, booze, and drunken naughty pics of Callie), I was under house arrest and swiftly written off as Satan's offspring. My life had turned into a living Hell, and so Callie got me a fake I.D., gave me a new name, and here I was; going crazy with the thought of pressing my body against her, the only person who would ever understand.