evilgirl28666

Before.




Mom if you read this I will never speak to you for the rest of my life






“There’s nothing you can say
Nothing you can do
There’s nothing in between

You know the truth

Nothing left to face
There’s nothing left to lose
Nothing takes your place…”

- Our Lady Peace, Not Enough



























July 26th 2006 10:16pm

Prologue:

I decided to add a prologue to this. It seems fitting even though I am not sure if, for what I have written, that it is correct to have a prologue and a epilogue. I also, of course, had to add some cheesy depressing lyrics at the beginning.
The following is, well, me reminiscing on the past. I do assume that by the title you were able to figure out that much. Except for this prologue assume that the rest of these pages are directed to one person. I wrote it down because, as I clearly point out numerous times, that my head would have exploded if it had all this stored up in it and there is only one person who I wanted to tell.
My name is Alison and the following is the truth. That is very important to me that you (the reader) know that everything you are about to read is the truth. No more lies. I almost wanted to go off, add some crazy details and events. In fact, I did at one part. Don’t worry, I took it out. I lie enough to everyone else that I might as well have something that’s fucking what happened. I apologize to those who read this, if any, and realize that I lied to them about a lot of things. If it’s not in here it didn’t happen, basically.
Just about everything I have written I have been high on coke, aside from minor changes and me, of course, proof reading it.
Deciding to write something came from the following conversation between me and him. Actually spending time writing this started from the anger I have towards another friend for ignoring me for the past couple months because of him working/ fucking his girlfriend. The motivation to keep writing came from someone who knows me through and through, maybe even a little more than the person who I wrote all of this too. I just want to put some thanks right now. He knows who he is and I will keep his name out of this for what I am about to write. Life sucks, so don’t you try an die. I’ll get some blow and help us both fly.

Alright, I am trying to think of any other key facts you might want to know. I wrote the prologue after I wrote up to page 17 give or take a couple lines.

Well…here it is, with spelling, grammar errors, and all.

The Truth.









Wednesday, May 24th, 2006 (this was typed on)
Conversation took place: April 6th 2006, a little after 10:20p.m.
(thank you to Middle Man for the date, time, and saving of the conversation.)


You: I already know everything, you don’t have to explain.

Me: I planted lies.

I was hoping the other night would help you straighten out.

The other night? Something you heard from tom?

I’ve heard a lot of things from a bunch of different people lately, including yourself.

None of its true…basically.



Me: I had my reasons…nothing worked though. Hear anything good?

You: I’ve heard some great stories.

Like? Tell me.

I’m pretty sure not all of them are true, but I know some are.

Like what?

I don’t know.

I’d like to hear the result of the past six months. I almost feel like explaining it to you, but I’m not because it’s not worth it and you don’t want to hear.

I kind of do want to hear.

I kind of want you to hear. Oh, I decided that with my new found time of soberness that I’m writing a book and going to college.

I’ve decided I’m not going to college. You feel like telling?

I thought you had this whole plan though.

No, I had an idea. And ideas change. A lot. I think I’ve changed a lot lately.

I haven’t existed enough to change.




You: So how’s the coke business anyways.

I was wondering if you were going to mention that.

Yea, I decided to.

Why did you decided to?

Because I kind of want to hear the last 6 months of your life and I figured by me bringing that up you'd start to talk about it and it would continue from there.

Why do you think that coke has anything to do with anything, I’m curious of your opinion.

Because it does. Does it not?

Why do you think it does?

I don’t think you’d enjoy my reasoning
(Months later I find out that he forgot what he was talking about here)
I don’t care. I want to know your opinion.

Well I do. So I’m not sharing it.

You have no reason not to.

Sure I do.

Like what.

Because I don’t want to?

I know you know. I just want to read it for myself.

No, maybe I’ll tell you some other time. Right now is not the time though.




I’m still waiting for that “some other time” to come up. It hasn’t. I am so used to telling you everything that I will tell you about this. Just indirectly. Many days from now, when I put a copy of this into a large white envelope and stick it between your screen door and the wooden one of your house, maybe you’ll read it. Maybe you won’t. Maybe you’ll be too afraid to read it, it will just sit undisturbed for years, the writing will fade, and you will never know the full extent that you have impacted my life. Might as well leave this to chance. Since everything so far has been luck, or the lack of luck.

I am also sorry that I just can’t get over the fact that you dumped me for a friend. Not that this was the first. Other times you just stopped talking to me. I can understand, don’t worry. Writing this seems like, I am obsessed with you. I’m not. You were just the only person that I trusted in my life up to that point. (Not that I’ve found someone to fill that) It still echo’s in my head, “ I don’t want to tell you.” “Just tell me I promise I won’t go anywhere”

Remember when I started ranting about floors? You deciphered my words, “What am I supposed to do, sometimes the floor is there, and sometimes it isn’t. Other times I’m just falling never knowing if the floor will ever come back or if I am going to slam into it.” You said something about how “floors…also known as friends” shouldn’t leave. I don’t remember it exactly, which I am sure I will find occurring throughout the following, but I am trying my best.

I apologize in advance because I have a lot to say and it might all start with “remember when…”

My confiding in you goes way back than just six months. More like two years. I can remember the first time trust was mentioned in our conversations. We were walking down Cabot Street to your house. I remember telling you that I don’t trust anyone. You said you trusted one person. A girl. Courtney? I don’t remember who it was.


I’m reading this journal that I used to keep online. Most of my entries have you in them. “haven’t seen him in…two days.” “he hasn’t talked to me in six days.” “its been two weeks” That happened a lot. I guess you had to take me in small doses or something. There was on day, in September, we were talking on the phone. You used to randomly call me sometimes. We were talking and I don’t know how it happened or what we were talking about but I told you that I thought about killing myself a couple times. I hung up because I had never told anyone that ever. It wasn’t ok to share my feelings. I was a freshman in high school. Confused, gothic, and I had just got out of nine years at a catholic school, St. Mary’s. The hell of my past. Everyone hated me and made fun of me. There was no confiding in anyone. There was no rest from the constant torment from other people. It still has a grip on me. That I am fat and I am not good looking. Stupid, worthless, anything that was degrading. I don’t know if I will ever get over that. Story of my life. Emotional Scarring.

Anyways…I hung up, put shoes on, told my mom I was going out, and left my house running.

(I copy and pasted the following out of the journal. I wrote it on this date and I decided to keep all the typos and such for effect.)
“ :: 2004 16 September :: 9.44 pm


Let me try n make this easy to understand. there is a park right next to the beach. and there are several beaches, even though not all connecting because of rocks and there is a wall that stretches between them. and also right next to that wall is a really bad path of rocks u can climb on when its low tide.

well i was sitting at the park and he rode up on his bike. i wasnt really in a normal state of mind. kinda of floating between reality and the inside of myself. there was him talking i dont really remember some parts because i was jumping out of the worlds.

then

run get away run stop leave bad things will happen dont talk

so yeah. i left. he followed. i moved to the sand because i heard him mention something about how he cant ride his bike on the sand.

so i went to the sand. and the only way was toward the rocks. for the most part i can only remember the rocks and my feet just keep moving. he pulledmy shirt. it was weird how surreal it seemed. like it wasnt really happening. like i was pretending it was happening and as i think of it now im still scared that i am really still sitting on that rock.

but yeah. i finnally stopped. the wall ended n it was about a 6ft drop to the ground which since the tide came in a bit was soaked. i still cant believe he walked all that way. in the water with his bike. he said it was freezing but i dont remember feeling it.

then after we got past the wall n down to the beach we sat on a rock for a while.
i probably said a couple stupid things. but nothing much happened. his hand was so warm when it touched my head. that kinda shook me out of my dazy state.

then there was an aquward silence walk home

and now i think he thinks i am some crazy freak.
i didnt want that to happen.”


I have gone back to the wall sense then that I “remember” climbing and its not there. I don’t know what the hell happened that day. Apparently you didn’t know or feel like dealing with it either:

:: 2004 22 September :: 6.53 am
:: Mood: crushed
:: Music: our lady peace: not enough

got a big fucking case of morning depression.
joyjoy.
i thought u were gonna be fucking there for me now, at least a little. but no, now u know the truth, yeah im an unstable fucking insane person and im sorry about that, wouldnt be this way if i fucking could. DAMNIT
you know things that fucking no one else EVER does. but no u try to get in, i let u in and now u fucking avoid me. WHAT THE HELL
you wonder why i have a big fucking deal of problems trusting people well you just added to that. thanks a whole fucking lot.
you know, maybe i wanted someone down here with me, its very lonely. yeah lonely. people dont fucking like me. they like the presto-alison that i present to them from 8am-3pm and later when needed. yeah thats fucking right.
THATS NOT ME THAT THEY KNOW.
you wonder why i hesatae on telling u fucking anything. CUZ SHIT LIKE THIS HAPPENDS.
you know, im not trying to be a bitch
but when u fucking act like you CARE at least ALITTLE FUCKING BIT it fucking kinda gets my hopes up that everyone in the world isnt a fucking bastard.
but no, you wanted to know me
you wanted to know things that no one else does
YOU WANTED to
wasnt my decision
you wanted to

and now where are you?
your fucking hiding.
you think i liked telling you what i used to do to myself? fuck no
not after the way u treated that girl who did the same thing.
i know we did it for different reasons and mine werent to fuck with your head. mine were becuase my head was the one that was fucked with
i thought i knew you, at least a little
i thought u fucking knew me, and u wanted to know more when u WOULDNT FUCKING TELL ME how ur fucking life is.
i opened up when u wouldnt even.
and now where are you?
sitting at ur fucking house
not even talking to me like we used to
holy fuck
thanks alot
makes me feel a whole lot better
lemme tell ya.....


It took you about a week and a half to recover from that.

I’m starting to think this story is becoming a confession or something, the truth to all my lies. Truth, that was a big thing with you as trust was a big thing to me.

I have to figure out why I can’t let you go. I don’t know. Even as I sit here. All coked out, my mind racing I can’t figure out why. I know some minor reasons. Well I am going to stop procrastinating. Here it is. I tried coke because of you. In my brain I somehow connected your sister’s addiction to it as a way in. I figured, hey, you talk to your sister even though you were pissed at her for doing coke. So maybe you’ll talk to me. I don’t know. This is just a little insight to the kind of logic my brain basis its reasoning on.
A few weeks into the semester, late September early October I was taking advanced photo for the second time. I really love photo and being in the photo room. It was my little escape during the 6 hours of torture known as school. I knew a couple people in the class, and I sometimes am in a mood to meet knew people. There was one girl who I knew, just from seeing her around. She usually walked to school in front of me and smoked a butt before class started. Ana Tassone. I thought she was a pretty cool person when I saw her in photo so I decided to talk to her. We were the slacker team in photo. It was awesome having someone who I could be in the darkroom with and not feel like a loser or something. One day after school I found myself walking to her house, about 2 blocks from the school. She lived off of Story Ave, which I was vaguely familiar with from a girl I used to know Alex Chandler. Her friend Jon was sleeping on the couch. I just accepted everything that I saw. Her house was about as messy as mine is when my mom isn’t in her psychotic clean phase. Mismatched furniture and just oddball stuff everywhere. “Is it cool?” Jon directed toward Ana even though he wasn’t looking at her. He was looking at something in his hand. A small bag. I couldn’t see what was in it. Ana put a c.d. case on the table, “Yeah, she’s cool with it.”
I had no idea what was going on. He opened this really small bag and a pile of white powder came out and slide onto the c.d. case. He started chopping it into a finer powder. I had talked to Ana about my curiosity with cocaine, but not to the extent that I had wanted to try it. He gave the c.d. case to Ana. She took a straw from out of her purse and the line disappeared. She giggled, something that I will always remember. Ana giggling. Jon took the c.d. case back and cut himself two lines. He snorted one. He snorted the other. He started chopping up the rest of the pile. In a few minutes there was a (looking back on it now) rather small line. Staring up at me. I looked at both of them, confused. I was being offered my first line.
I have forgotten many of the times that I’ve snorted. But I’ll never forget that first time. I was so nervous that I when I went to sniff I didn’t even hold the other side of my nose. Only half of it went up. I breathed in to get you back. I did it to get you mad. I made this choice to try and somehow get you back. No matter how slim the chances were I made this choice thinking about you the whole 3 seconds, and probably the longest three seconds of my life. I think this is extremely ironic because when that first wave of euphoria hit me you were the first thing washed off my mind. Everything was just gone. It was just me, sitting on a couch, with two people I didn’t know that well, with something I’ve yelled at people for even thinking about doing.

I picked up the straw and blew another line. The house could have been on fire, the world ending, anything…and I was perfectly fine. Content. Happy. This is something so many people take for granted but it is something I only experience briefly. All the shit I’ve had to worry about, school, work, home life, all the stress was just pushed away. The only other thing that was remotely close to this was the relief of cutting myself. It is something that I will not go into detail about, because I believe it is now in my past. Something I am over and no longer depend on even though there are days when it seems like a good alternative to dealing with pain.
About 15 minutes later I was back to my normal, moody, depressed self. Contemplating quitting my job, dropping out, leaving the country. The usual things. But this break I got from life wasn’t something I was going to forget about.
Pretty soon my whole paycheck was going to this. One hundred dollars a week for two grams of “motivation”. In the beginning it was Ana, Jon, and myself. We’d chill at Ana’s house after school. Snort a couple lines. They smoked cigarettes a lot too.
One morning my mom woke me up for school as usual. Six thirty I dragged myself into the shower. I always felt a little extra shitty the day after I blew a lot. My nose would be all crusty and my head would ache. The water poured down and I started to wake up a little. I decided to turn it up, so it was really hot. The bathroom was foggy and full of moisture. I started rubbing my nose to try and get all the gunk out. All of a sudden I got a strange, yet familiar taste in my mouth. There was blood spattered all over me. It took me a few seconds to realize that my nose was bleeding. Now I have had nosebleeds before, but I was almost certain of the cause of this one. Over all I think I have had only 3 or 4 nosebleeds from doing too much coke. I also have never had my nose bleed while sniffing, which makes me wonder if it’s actually from snorting too much. Anyways, I waited for the bleeding to slow enough for me to wash my hair and get out of the shower without spattering blood everywhere. It was odd. I had a ringing in my ears from the sudden silence. Water slowly drained out of my hair with a pitter-patter rhythm on the floor next to my feet. I stared at myself. Naked, with blood covering the lower right half of my face. I had gotten a great set of dark circles under my eyes. My skin was pale and pasty, nothing unusual but I was just noticing more closely. I must have stood there for fifteen, twenty minutes looking at my face, watching the blood dry, and feeling my nose try and clot itself.

(Wednesday, June 21st)

I consider doing blow with Ana the first time. Technically it wasn’t. I actually wasn’t going to even write about this event but something felt wrong about it. About two weeks before I did it with Ana I had “tried“ some from someone else. Jaycee and Jamie were over and she had been talking to this guy Brandon about it. She left my house to meet up with him and get it. After about 30 outgoing calls to her cell phone she returned. She didn’t bring any back, but instead she told me that she did it with him. I was kind of pissed because the reason she had left was to get some for all of us. Anyway, about thirty minutes after that he came and picked us up. We drove to some remote part of Beverly that I doubt I’ll ever be able to find again. He pulled out a bag, which only from experience I can now say was probably the equalivent to three or four eight balls. I don’t know what it was cut with but it was really weak stuff. Too bad I didn’t know what I do now back then, but everyone has to learn at one point. I bought a “40 bag” from him because I didn’t feel comfortable doing it in front of him for some reason, otherwise he probably would have given some to me for free. I of course had no idea what I was doing and actually ended up dumping the rest out on my walk to school the next day.
There is a group of people I consider the stoners of Beverly. They consist of Joe, Greg, Barbara, Dave, Kim, Nikki, Tom, Tim, Dana, Phil, Chris, Brandon, and Katie. I excluded last names for a reason. These are the people you will find at Dane St. when there is nothing else to do. These are the people, who, that try as I might not to rag on them, are the biggest drama lovers in the world. Don’t get me wrong, I love them to death, well, most of them, but I doubt these people have big plans for their lives. But like hell, they are one group of party animals. Then there is the group that I love to death. They just make me feel comfortable and it’s great. Ana, Molly, Jamie, Jaycee, Matt, and Eddie. I’ll elaborate on my group after I explain an event that happened before I became friends with Eddie and Matt. Not an event but, more like a person.
The stoner group got introduced to J.P. This twenty-two year old that I guess, according to the latest rumor then, just got out of prison. He was a good six to eight inches taller than me and a good fifty to seventy pounds bigger than me. He was a little chubby, but it was evenly mixed muscle and fat. I was at a point where I looked out for myself, used other people to get what I wanted when I wanted it. I also made sure that I surrounded myself with big people to take care of me. Coke has taught me how to manipulate the crap out of people. So I, therefore, targeted J.P. as someone who I needed to make myself known to. At the time Kim was dating Dana, and I used this to my advantage. J.P. was good friends with Dana and I threw myself into the conversation he was having about not having enough time with Dana because his girlfriend was a bitch. I used a few witty remarks, couple two, three insults and I had J.P. interested. A few days after I got a call from Phil, asking if I wanted to hang out with him and J.P. I said sure and a few minutes later Phil was outside in the minivan waiting for me to come out. I acted all girly and shy and giggly and J.P. bought into it. Soon he was in the backseat next to me with his arm around me. Not exactly what I was going for but it couldn’t hurt. I was afraid of him to. I act like I am tough but I know I probably couldn’t win a fight with someone my own size, let alone some tall, big, obviously been in serious fights before guy.
We hung out a few times, mostly either in Phil’s van or in Dave’s house (the party house). He soon had me kissing him when I saw him for the first time that day, or before I left. I don’t kiss people. It is almost a known fact. I absolutely despise the thought of kissing someone. It was made even worse because of all the things I have heard about J.P. Like him giving guys blow jobs who have herpes or something. There is also a rumor that he has butt cancer from receiving too many times from the wrong guy. He also bragged about how he loved to eat girls out. Of course when he told me this, I giggled and blushed like I was supposed to do, and on the inside I was mentally hurling over and over again. I soon found out Phil’s reason for putting up with J.P. Phil was trying to deal coke. I had picked up a few know-how’s along the way and I tried to explain to Phil that dealing coke was not something you make a huge profit in unless you are way the hell high up on the dealing scale, which a seventeen year old junior in high school wasn’t going to achieve anytime soon. Phil, J.P. and two younger boys and myself were on a burn run, when J.P. gets a call. “EVERYONE SHUT THE HELL UP” The car seemed like it turned off its radio. No one disobeyed J.P. or you lost a couple teeth. We drove to some house and J.P. got out of the car and about ten minutes later he was in the back with me. I was sitting very close to him (not by choice) and I could tell that he hadn’t showered in days. I was busy trying to inch my way toward the window when I noticed that he was touching something in his hand. An eight ball. He gave me the “honor” of holding it for a few minutes. Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead and he opened the bag onto a book cover. A few medium size rocks fell out. Enough to make my stomach clench and my legs press together. I didn’t move. I had been feinding for days, having already blown throw my paycheck days earlier (both figuratively and literally). I watched goose bumps appear on my arms and below my neck all the way down to where the low cut line of my shirt started. He noticed but pretended not to. He munched on one of the rocks and a few seconds later he smashed his fist through the side of the car. I froze. He picked up his phone and dialed a number. “WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO THIS I’M GONNA … HELLO?! … HELLO?! He hung up and just sat there. He turned to me, “Ally, babe, taste one of these rocks for me.” I reached my pointer finger and got a rock to stick to my skin. I held it between my fingers and bit it in half. My tongue was filled with the strong bitter cocaine taste, and then it was cut short by a sickeningly salty taste. I looked at the rock and it had an white powdery packed shell with a bright pink inside. “I think this is laced with H…” I almost cried right then and there. Heroin was not something I did. Suddenly a flash from something I read online came up. “J.P.?” I cooed, “I don’t think it’s H” He looked at me for a second, confused on two things. One that I was contradicting him, two that it sounded like I had something intelligent to say. He lifted his chin, allowing me to continue. I gulped, “I am pretty sure it is speed.” He looked at me, at the bag, at the rocks and powder in from of him, and then ate another rock. “Well, selling coke laced with speed is one thing. Selling it laced with H is a no-no.” He laughed, “Hey Phil, I’m going to take a couple lines out of this, alright?” As if Phil had a choice. First Phil was driving, and secondly Phil is one of the shortest and skinniest boys around Beverly. I still think he is one of the greatest people to hang out with and he is always wicked funny. J.P. could kill Phil if he really felt like it. J.P. probably poured out about a gram and glared at me not to say anything. He cut it into about equally into 4 lines. I did two and he did two. I felt crazy. The coke was just magnified by the speed. I started tweaking out. J.P. put his hand on my thigh. That did not help. I told Phil that I needed to go home. J.P. told me no, but I told him that I was supposed to be home an hour earlier anyway so he let me leave.
The last time I hung out with him was at Dave’s house. I was doing lines upstairs with Kim and Joe and he came upstairs. He blew a tiny line and grabbed me by the shoulders outside of the room Kim and Joe were in.
“DON’T YOU DARE TELL ANYONE THAT I JUST DID THAT! YOU HEAR?” That scared me a little bit.
Like I said before. That was the last time I hung out with him. Everyone slowly got fed up with him and eventually he was assumed to have had a part in Phil getting robbed. I see him, now and then. I was supposed to call him a few days ago. He wanted me to go over. His girlfriend probably broke up with him and he was looking for sex or something. Lucky me. I’ll never let myself get into an abusive relationship. Thanks to him I’ll be able to look for the signs. I know they have support groups for women who are abused by their husbands or boyfriends and can’t find the strength to get out of it. I can understand that some woman might think that their husbands or whatever might love them or that they might deserve it. I’d rather punish myself with solitude then have someone who was supposed to love me beat me every night.
After J.P. got out of my life I really started becoming good friends with Ana, Jon, and Molly. The details of like, November to December are very vague. I started getting into the hard core partying scene. Staying “over Ana’s” Friday and Saturday night. A.K.A. getting drunk out of my mind wherever I could with whomever I could.
One Friday, after school got out, I went over to Ana’s like usual. Jon was being weird and I really wanted two bags. I gave him my entire paycheck, one hundred bucks, and he took off to get the coke. I haven’t seen him since. He stop being friends with Ana.


Quick jump to the present.
Tuesday, July 11th.

During a break from the torrential down-pouring of the rain outside, when the sun was out I, of course, was at work when I randomly felt the urge to turn around. For no reason whatsoever, aside from your sudden need for shaving cream, you were behind me. I honestly could have died from a heart attack right then and there. The third time you were in my work during the course of a year and a couple months. (I don’t keep track I just know) My hands were shaking so bad and a million things were racing through my head to do.
Run Away.
Tell you about the book.
Melt into the floor.
Charge you less for what you were buying.
Say something.
Say nothing.

I don’t know. I was so unnerved by what was happening that I zoned out of my surroundings. If there was a siren for the end of the world I wouldn’t have heard it. I didn’t know what to feel, happy or angry. I didn’t know. I didn’t want to blink for fear of unknown consequences that might arise from it.

And then you were gone.

Your car sounds worse than mine.

And your eyes didn’t have the dark circles that I had been used to seeing.



Without Jon I didn’t really know what to do. I was at a dilemma because he got good stuff. I didn’t want to waste my money on crappy coke. That was the worse situation.

One drunken night at Dane St. with Jaycee I met this crazy ass Brazilian, Eddie. He was hanging out with Joe. He was talking to Jaycee when she wrapped her hands around the back of his neck and drew him into a kiss. I, being drunk and overprotective, called him a “stupid Mexican” (I am not racist, I was drunk), and pushed him away from her. Recalling on how I met him with Eddie sometimes embarrasses me because he doesn’t understand that I was drunk.
Seems I make a lot of mistakes when I am fucked up.

Kim, originally, was Eddie’s friend. They hung out so much. One night, it was snowing out and they picked me up. We drove, parked, and turned the car off. It was quiet. He cut some lines and the lines were blown. Other things happened but I am going to choose to exclude them. You can ask me if you really wish to know. But I am not going to type them.



Back to the present. Same day. Well night. It’s 11:35 and I just blew every bit of coke that I have. I wish the drip was stronger. It’s settling right in the front of my head and if I really wanted to I could forget why I am typing this. In about 5 minutes I am going to want more. Fuck that I want more right now. So much more. I regret sharing what I had with Jamie and Jaycee today. I am going to be clenching my teeth all night. I hope Rosanne is on. I like watching that when I am trying to sleep but I know its not going to happen. My Dad’s warrant for his arrest goes out Friday.


Let me tell you a little about the history of me and two of my good friends. Going to Beverly Public High school was a big step for me if you didn’t already know. I had gone to St. Mary’s private catholic school for 9 years. Those worse 9 years of my life prepared me for the shitty things people are willing to do. It warned me of how perverted boys can be, but no where close to the extremes of them getting laid. I dressed darkly, some would refer to it as “gothic”. But that was how I dressed along with my longest known friend Kim (I’ll get to her later). We learned to rely on each other and to stick together. We also learned that we needed to cheat to get through high school, it was something that just had to be done. We also promised that we would have EVERY class together.
Of course, up to this year, we still haven’t had any classes together. Not being used to a public school didn’t make it any easier to blend in when already I made myself different via clothing. So first period first day I was in my room at 8:00. No one was in there not even a teacher. A few minutes later a rather large and short woman made her way into the room. “Algebra 1 part A? room C10...something”, just to make sure I asked. She checked her attendance and was all “Oh yes I have you on here” I already couldn’t stand her. I had pictured some young male teacher with glasses who didn’t really care if we learned or not and talked about life and the meaning of things. No, I was stuck with someone who already I had ten thousand insults for and she had spoken less than ten words to me. I picked a seat one row up from the back, one row over from the wall farthest from the desk, and one seat up from the last seat in the row. I had deduced that this would be the best choice. Not something in the front to obviously show that I was slacking or sleeping (or a nerd to the rest of the class), but something far enough that I wouldn’t be called on unless I wanted. Safe, I played it safe. People filed in by themselves or with another friend. Pretty soon I was sitting among blondes and preppy clothing. I could have hung myself right there with my brand new notebooks. The teacher made us get up and sit in alphabetical order. I ended up in the first seat in the middle of the room right in front of the desk. So much for not making an ass of myself on the first day, at least I could keep my mouth closed. I wish I had been paying attention to the attendance to know who I was sitting next to, or to warn me for what was about to happen. About 15 minutes late the door burst open, “SORRY I’M LATE I HAD TO FIX MY SCHEDUAL“…blah blah some stupid excuse. It took me a second to realize who this was. “Holy shit Andrew McCord!” I stated rather loudly, got a side comment from the teacher. “OH MY GOD ALLY HUNT WHAT THE FUCK?!?” After being scolded by the teacher who Andrew forever dubbed as “penguin” and Andrew took his seat in the row over and one seat behind another blonde girl, the class resumed. Homework on the first day. The last couple minutes she let us have to ourselves. I chatted with Andrew and we made comments about the teacher. The girl in front of him, and next to me kept listening and laughing. I said hi to her and her name was Jamie Dalton. She was in three out of my four classes and I had lunch with her. We endured the wrath of the penguin, putdowns of the new psychotic English teacher, unbearable facts about Europe and the Middle Ages, weird lunch food and the stranger lunch people. If it wasn’t for her then I probably would have gotten into the wrong crowd. (ha-ha) I have been friends with her ever since, she went to warped tour last year with me, got me to go to the mall freshman year, to lighten up on the gothic clothes, its been such a great couple years.
For the life of me, I can’t remember Jaycee in that math class. Sophomore year I remember her. Kelly Pratt’s awesome math class. First night I lied to my mom and slept at a boys house AND got trashed. I passed out on the bottom bunk, woke up to the bunk rocking because her and her bf were…you know…I just made myself pass out and slept through it. Fuck staying awake through that. Loved her more than life that year. WELL AT LEAST MY SWEATER DOESN’T LOOK LIKE VOMIT. I got her to smoke with me before I had smoked with Jamie.
First time I smoked with Jamie was when she lived over the hill. We had walked to my house and from there to Hurd. Smoked out of a soda can while sitting on the rocks up on Cooney Cliff. I also drove her home, and almost killed us and my mom, it was so funny. First time I smoked with Jaycee she like, reacted weirdly to it. I am pretty sure that it was because it was reacting with the anti-depressants that she was on. She also smoked a lot too and didn’t know where she was. I had really good times with her and we got through our parents grounding us together. Smoking before school and out of a five foot bong.
Love them.

I remember the first time I met you. You came to my house with Mark and I was with Kim. You put a penny in the chicken I was eating. I don’t know if it was the same day, Kim might have left, but You, Mark, and myself were with Jon (a different one then Ana’s Jon) and you picked things off of the street and threw them at me. Such as a knife and a disgusting towel. You also strangled me and Jon when he told me where your house was. I remember not being able to breathe. I remember monkeys141414 and the several hundred other screen names you had. I remember sitting in the middle of a field next to Rich’s house and smoking WAY too much. I remember you punching my leg as hard as you could but I couldn’t move because I was so stoned. I remember throwing the nugget and telling you that I didn’t have it to begin with because I didn’t want you to think I was dumb or something and then you lying about your piece in my room. I remember nine a.m. and not being dressed when you showed up. I remember loving every minute of us hanging out because you were just this wicked cool guy who didn’t judge me.
I remember when you stopped coming, and stopped smoking, and when we started fighting. I remember freaking out so many times. I remember trusting you, the first person who I trusted in so many years. I remember telling you everything. I also remember that piece of me dieing that day you said you never wanted to talk to me again. I can still remember everything I did after you told me you never wanted to talk to me again. I remember the weather. I remember cutting but the hurt was so deep that even my last defense could not help. I remember falling apart, throwing myself into drugs, and setting myself up for addiction because I could not deal with the fact that someone who I trusted with my…everything just didn’t want me around anymore. Someone who knew everything about me and just…I just could not even fathom that this could happen to me again.

I hope you know that I am not trying to guild trip you, or get you to apologize for anything. You said you wanted to read this, I don’t know if you know that I was going to be talking about this as much. I’m sorry if this makes you uncomfortable in any way.






I remember the first time I met Jon. It was new years and the people he was with were trying to ditch him. Thinking about it, I wonder if he ever found that out.



Alright, the next big event in my history happens on one day that is really cold out. I somehow ended up staying out all night two nights in a row. I think it was St. Patrick’s weekend. Ana, Molly, and myself had gotten and supplied liquor to so many people. Ana basically had a small business running in her house. We were at this guy Jimmy’s party on a street off of Cabot. Late Eddie came and picked the three of us up and Ashley. Ana, for the only time ever puked. We had to bring her home. After smoking a couple bowls Eddie brought Molly, Ashley, and me back to Jimmy’s house. I was drunk out of my mind and, for some reason, flirting with this one boy who’s name I am choosing to exclude. He kept having me drink more, and eventually, around 3 in the morning more pot was brought out and I was baked and drunk. Eventually the lights went out and the TV. was just left on playing rap. There were about six or seven boys passed out in the living room and then myself. I was on the longer of the two couches with the boy I had been flirting with earlier. My left hand was being moved into going into his pants. I didn’t do things like this. I never had, but, being a 17 year old intoxicated female with low self esteem being wanted was something new still. I went along with it until I felt that the thin layer of clothing between my hand and what was in his pants being removed. I then proceeded to pass out, not necessarily caring about what happened.

I do remember feeling him brushing a piece of hair out of my face though.

When I woke up the next morning I was laying on the couch with him on the outside of me sleeping. I pushed his legs onto the floor so I could get up. People were already cleaning. He didn’t wake up for a while. Molly and I left and went to my house so I could shower, get the car, and bring her to her house so she could shower.

I don’t remember what we did during the day but I picked Ana up from work and told my mom I was sleeping out again. (I did that often, usually not sleeping at my house for Friday/Saturday night) We went back to Jimmy’s house. I guess what happened was that his mom was out of the country. There were a lot of people there and people were being assholes outside of his house too. Beeping and revving their engines. Ana, Molly, and myself were packing a bowl and had just lit it when the cops showed up. There was a knocking on the door and everyone panicked. I was one of the last people to get out of the apartment. It was on the third floor. There was a narrow staircase down to the fenced in, small, paved, backyard. When I got outside I saw flashlights from around the corner and I turned quickly to go the other way. Kids were hopping rooftops to get out. Jimmy was gone, no one knew where he went or how he got out. I, again, was shit-faced and when I turned to run back into the house I slipped and fell. I tore my pants and my knee was bleeding badly. I still have the bruises. And the pants. My hand was stinging. I was caught along with 5 or 6 other kids. The cops asked us a few questions and let us leave. I followed the kids until I realized that one: I had left my backpack that had my wallet, money, house key, school books, pot, and liquor in it. Two: that I couldn’t go home without my backpack, and bleeding freely at 12-1 in the morning, and three: Ana and Molly were still in there. I debated going to Kim’s house for the night. I decided to wait and see what they did with all the kids.
The happiest site was to see Ana and Molly and a couple other kids I knew walking away from the house with my backpack. I was lucky. We walked to my work and I cleaned myself up a little bit. I am pretty sure I spent the night at Molly’s house and went back home the next day. Crazy stuff.
Everything between then and when Ana started dating Cory is a fucked up blur. I can remember staying out all night and spending the night at Cory’s house. I can’t remember if I was drunk or not. I know I was baked. I had bought two bags from Eddie and we blew monster lines before he brought us to Cory’s house. Cory lives about 15-20mins away. We went into his house and of course blew more. I settled into his couch and Ana and him went in his bedroom and shut the door. For an unknown reason I blow more. Suddenly I am wrapped around the toilet puking my brains out. I had lovely background music of my friends screwing in-between emptying my stomach’s contents. The small bathroom was bright white, giving me a headache and the smell of stomach acid kept me feeling like I was going to puke again. I thought I was going to die. My heart was racing. I looked my absolute worse. I got a flash, I don’t know what else I can call it, of me being in a whore house in some crappy neighbor hood, selling myself off for some crack or something and puking my insides out after lowering my standards to some greasy fat man who was easily older than my father. Surprisingly I am still waiting for that moment in my life when I reach the bottom. Have a self-changing experience, changing for the better, experience for the worst.
During the past couple weeks I moved toward that flash. I agreed to do things for coke with two different guys. I was drunk in both situations and just wanted coke so badly. I was also to drunk to realize at the time how pathetic I have become.
On the fourth of July I let myself get drunk to the point where I gave a different guy, who I knew from school, head (not for coke) for no reason besides the fact that his girlfriend wouldn’t bang him so he needed to get some action for himself else where. He was sober, I was drunk, he cheated on his girlfriend, and of course I am getting shit for it. I told you about this earlier today (the 12th…well almost the 13th its so late)

It was at lynch, in the rose garden. There was four of us over there, a little secluded place. Three girls, including myself, and then him. We were standing in a diamond type shape. He was leaning against a wall that if you jump up you can sit on. (there is like a hole in the wall) One girl to his right and the other to his left. I was in front. They were both kind of teasing him, grabbing at his crouch.

I am still pissed off a little because it was him who was the sober one.

I was just looking at him, because I knew what was going to happen and I think he did two. My memory of this, is like if you were watching TV and the sides of the screen were blurry. I am a very confused person about sexuality, relationships, and all that crap. Showing emotion or attachment to a person has always backfired on me but I still want to be wanted. When I drink I don’t get attached, so it makes getting involved with someone for a night appealing because I am the one that does not care. I am the one who is leaving, not being left. When I get drunk my inhibitions just don’t exist. I act without caring and, sadly, I usually I get what I want. Something changes about my personality, it just becomes this oppressive force that wants and needs. I crave attention more than anything. There is no such thing as a consequence to me anymore. The attention I get is almost always from boys. It is almost always sexual.

So here I am, this pathetic girl drunk/sexually frustrated out of my mind and a boy who is giving me attention. Bad combination once again. Next thing I know something is out flopping around in the breeze. Moth to a flame. I didn’t start out on my knees, but when the other girls left I made myself more comfortable. Funny thing was that even though this was the first time that I did this, but I was bragging about how good I was at it earlier. Another way my drunken self manipulates the situation to my benefit. I knew he didn’t get anything from his girlfriend so I worked the situation. Sad. I don’t even feel like having you know about this. I have to let it out so might as well be in here.

I talked to you today. It was probably one of the happier, sober moments I have had all summer. Yeah I wish that I could rewind two years to when I met you. So many things that I’d change. Not just with you, just so many things. I don’t even want to list them all.
Probably the only person who I would ever consider trusting, after you, told me that he tried to kill himself during the beginning of the summer. I wish I could convince him that everything will be alright, but its tough when I am looking on my past with such a lack of “things will get better”.

Two guys that I used to be/am good friends with got locked up. One for coke, another for not being able to deal with shit. I almost feel responsible. Like I could have done something different to help them. But no I am a slave to my addiction.
Am I addicted?

I smoke cigs too now. Marlboro Red’s if you’re thinking of a useful Christmas present that isn’t money to be turned into coke. But I could stop with that whenever I want. That’s what everyone says right? Pretty funny.

What is even funnier to me is that I got bored with pot. Now and then I will have an urge to smoke a blunt, but nothing is as good as coke. Except things in combination with it. Liking drinking and doing coke. You get the idea.

Well my writing caught up with today. I am writing about what’s happening now as I experience it. I got paid so much this week and I want it all to go to blow. Screw going to concerts I want to get high. Sounds shitty I know.

My mom told me that she knew I slept out at Dane St. one night (which I did), she said that she knew I was doing coke, smoking, and getting drunk (which I do). She said she knew that I was selling myself for drugs (which I’ve done). She also didn’t do anything about it. Just kind of holding it against me. I am not really sure why. Maybe she feels bad because of all the shit with my dad. She won’t let me stay out all night though. That pisses me off.

Monday, July 17th
Eight graders are interested in doing coke. I imagine what you would say if I told you this. I bet you’d ask the names and the I would reply “I don’t know” you’d probably think I was lying or something. Withholding information, I am not really sure. I hung out with sophomores (now juniors). They will always be stupid sophomores to me. They tried to buy like 3.8 grams for 160 from this dealer I know in Salem. They got ripped off about 2 grams. It was kind of amusing but it also sucks because I blew them up earlier so they owe me now.
Monday, July 31st
I wish I could describe the feelings that I have. I am going to try. Right now I am fucking pissed off out of my mind. It feels like my brain is stretching a hundred different ways and everything inside me is trying to get out and everything outside is trying to get it. It’s this unbearable pressure and I don’t know how to make it go away. I bet if I was put in an anti gravity chamber then I would just explode because there wasn’t the pressure from the outside. Then I start fucking crying. Stupid weak girl crying. Bawling my eyes out, not able to breath because I am trying to be quiet so my mom doesn’t think I am on crack or fucking anything. Holy shit who did I piss off for this to fucking happen to me. Stupid drama I hate all of it. I hate everything I just want to pack what little shit I have and leave. I want to leave and not come back. Leave and start a new life or just get rid of the old one I don’t want anything and I have nothing. My life is going nowhere and I hope that I just fucking die because I am too god dam weak to kill myself, to just be put out of my misery. I want to drink myself into a coma, I want to puke from doing to much coke, I want that release that I can’t fucking find anymore. I want to get out of myself in the worst possible way. I don’t want to be here I don’t want my life I want to donate it to charity and someone can pick out what little parts that don’t suck balls. I hate drugs I hate people I hate birthdays I hate love. I hate emptiness I hate that feeling in the pit of your stomach I hate breathing, I hate the what-if-s and the when’s and the whys I hate all of it. I hate you and how still fucking you are not talking to me. I hate that I fucking want, the only thing I want is for you to talk to me. I hate you. I hate everything about you. I hate how I can’t stop thinking about you. I hate your face and your house. I hate your stupid computer and fucking I FUCKING HATE YOUR STUPID CAR and I hate the people you hang out with and I hate the air that is around you and the presence that you have. I hate your attitude and I hate your stupid everything. I hate all of your stupid music and your stupid life. I fucking hate everything. I hate myself with a god dam passion. Everything I just said I change it and I fucking want to apply it to myself. I hate everything about me that I just listed I hate myself. I hate the indecisions in my life. I hate how scummy I am I fucking hate everything there is nothing that I enjoy about myself I hate that I can’t end it either. I would be so much better off floating off into nothing.
So that is how I feel or felt right now. I am contemplating asking if I can live with my dad for the rest of august. I really would like that.




Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Epilogue:

I am currently awaiting my dads decision on whether or not I can live with him from the 6th through the 30th. I don’t know what he is going to say and I don’t know what I’ll do if he says no. Kate and myself are talking about getting some shitty apartment. I don’t know how that is going to turn out. The guy who I did stuff with at Lynch instant messaged me the other night to tell me that he got away with it. I had to bail a few of my friends out of jail the other day too. I need a break from life it looks like. I don’t know how I am going to get it. It also looks like I am not going to put this in-between the two doors of your house. I am going to give it to Josh and it’s up to you if you decide to read it. Well, I guess if you are reading this part then you have read the whole thing.
But this is it. That was the past six months. I wrote about things that happened before that, but it was necessary. In my head I told you, just like I feel about everything else. That you know about it. I feel like I have told you everything. I also hope that nothing I have said has offended you in any way, or made you mad, or makes you think that you should apologize. Or anything that makes you feel like I should apologize.

I will apologize for two things though,



I apologize for all the shit you had to deal with when we were friends,



And I apologize for needing to tell you everything.









After.

Most ironic event of my entire life.

You asked me to quit for you.


I hate to think I would still lie in traffic for you.

Today I smoked crack for the first time, with one of my good buddies. I tried heating the coke to make it easier to cut, but instead it just melted and there was no point in wasting it? I guess quitting isn’t going to be the easiest thing. I will probably have to limit myself slowly cutting back on doing hard core shit. Hmm some ground rules?
1. As many cigs as I need.
2. No buying whole bags myself, coke wise.
(I’m starting to realize how hard this is going to be)
3. One blunt, One joint, Two bowls a week.
4. One dime bag purchase a week.
5. No consuming hard liquor.
6. As many beers as I can drink.

It’s going to be hard. I’ll start counting from Wednesday, or tomorrow.

It’s going to be really hard. I’ve never had self control and the pages before this are perfect example.



August 17th,2006

Wow. I have been sober for like 14 days? Let me check. Click. Click. Scroll, Click. I don’t know. I knew it was like 9 days a day or two ago. So lets call it two weeks. Tonight I licked it off my digi because Eddie left a bunch on it. I didn’t really taste it though. Does that count? I started talking to this boy online that I spoke to in school a little. He moved to New York and we’ve been instant messaging each other. Talking about random crap. I started to really enjoy talking to him. He came here to get some shit and visit. I started liking him and getting excited to see him but now I realize that I can’t like him. I don’t know why. He doesn’t want me doing coke but that is ok, even though I licked it tonight in front of him. Oh well. He hugged me last night and today he was trying to massage my back but I wouldn’t let him. “I’m not in the touching mood”. He hugged me again before going home tonight and I am convinced that I could never like him or date him. I would probably go down on him if we got drunk together but I don’t think I can deal with the whole relationship/attachment thing. I kind of stuck to my rules. Mostly not buying coke whatsoever, but breaking them by buying lots of pot. I hate smoking and like it. I can’t decide. It’s pretty horrible. I enjoy that little break from reality and just being stoned and content otherwise its pretty bad. My body is screaming for coke. I did not eat today because I was around it. I actually haven’t had the money for it either. I will most likely do it on my birthday, in fact just thinking about it makes me want to save money so I can have it.


Saturday, August 19th, 11:29p.m.

“Ally you are afraid of men”
“I know, its just he was…”
“No, you are afraid of all men. I know.”

That was the conversation between me and Eddie tonight.

I tried to get drunk so I could talk to Norberto easier.

Eddie keeps talking about how he is leaving.

Ana and Corey were fighting.

Jamie and Richie and Jaycee were fighting.

Eddie cried.

Josh’s Uncle died.

Everything feels like its falling into pieces.

I feel like I will never be happy again.

I snorted one fat line

and

it all faded away for what seemed eternity

and

it’s all slowly coming back and the only way to make it leave

is to snort another line.

Friday September 8th, 2006 9:56

(I apologize this goes backwards in time a little bit.)

So in about two hours I will be 18. I honestly don’t want to live to see it. I am not drunk, I am not stoned, I am not fucked up on coke, I left my pack of cigarettes at Dane St. when I left Norberto in a hurry. He was being such an asshole to me. After leaving the “friends” I was with earlier that night I was chain smoking and I saw you drive past me, turn into the gas station, and into Brook’s parking lot next to me. I couldn’t even look at you for fear I would start crying or something again. I needed a ride, not to anywhere, but I needed one. I wish so bad that I could have gotten into your car. You have no idea how bad I wish that. I think both of us knew I wasn’t going to get into the car but it doesn’t matter now does it. I am worth about twenty bucks, that’s what I got offered to give this guy head. I ended up on my knees with a guy I just met on Sunday night. I wasn’t that drunk and it was pretty bad. I just wanted some attention or something, I really don’t know. I haven’t figured out why I moved from cutting to drugs to promiscuous behavior. I got fired from Walgreen’s, for stealing. It was most likely second on my list of all time worst experiences in my life. I got pressured to pay 200 dollars in cash to them, and I could possibly be paying an extra 500 dollars for just being associated with what they think I did. My dad left. No one knows where he went. Pretty great.
Fifty-four minutes until I am 18.

I think I am going to lie in bed and sleep through the final count down.

It is at about 46 minutes.

I am tired.

I wish I had gotten in your car.




Friday, September 15th, 2006

My dad ended up sending me a late happy birthday email. Pretty dumb in my opinion. It has been so long since I have cut, especially on my wrists. I forgot how good it feels. Most likely I am getting coke tonight and most likely I am going to blow it all to my face. My nose started bleeding before I cut. I think my body knew I was going to do it and it wanted to compensate for what I was about to do, to try and protect itself from the harm it didn’t want. I’ve given, maybe, three or four guys head over the course a week and a half? Two guys on my birthday, and one of them I really wish I hadn’t. I am hanging out with J.P. again, I doubt that is a good thing. He tried to make me give him head, I did until I realized in my drunken state what and who I was doing that too. I am also thinking that I have herpes. It’s pretty great. I can’t really control myself anymore. I had more control when I was doing coke everyday. Being drunk is just not really something that I should be unsupervised with. I am starting to give up on a lot of things. I said to the group of people I was with on my birthday that I was leaving. One boy who, in my drunken state, I had been hitting on and telling him that I wanted to give him head opposed to J.P. He followed me out along the side of J.P.’s house and I shoved him against the wall and proceeded to give him a quick feel up before removing his pants which were followed by his boxers. He came on my birthday present, a two hundred dollar Coach purse. I can remember walking down Grant St. with cum all over my hair that fell out of my ponytail, chin, neck, and front of my shirt. I felt great stumbling down that street by myself. I couldn’t even see straight. It took days to get the taste out of my mouth.
Today my English teacher was talking about hope, Dante’s Inferno, and how it says over the gates of hell to abandon all hope. He said that no matter what there is always hope except for when you are in hell. I felt like contradicting him and saying that I have been waiting 18 years with hope that things will get better but they haven’t. 18 years is a very long time. Or Maybe I am in hell. That would make sense.


What would you think of me now?


Saturday, September 23rd, 2006 sometime in the morning/early afternoon.

School started on the 7th. I dropped my last class of the day because the girlfriend of this guy I gave head to was in it. I didn’t feel like dealing with her. One day after school I was standing at the smoking corner with Tom Roys and Kim. This tall guy who’ve I have never seen before was talking to Tom. He started walking away. I told Tom that I wanted to hang out with him, he seemed interesting (a.k.a. he was extremely hot). Tom did something really cool then, he called him over. His name was Seth, he was about my age, and Tom had him hang out with us. We smoked a bowl and then he left and went to work. He was ridiculously funny, and had this incredible laugh. I decided that he was to be one of my conquests. I have been hanging out with him for at least an hour or two a day. I realized yesterday morning during class that I was starting to have feelings for him. Damn. We spent about 3 or 4 hours together yesterday before J.P. told him to leave because he wanted to get drunk with Kim, Dana, and Myself. He hugged me and I did not hug him back. We had been hanging out at Kim’s earlier and he had been asking me a bunch of stuff. Including about the person to whom this is all being written for. It made me really depressed thinking about it. Also I had taken a bunch of pills so that was fucking with my brain too. As I was walking down J.P.’s street I was hoping that he would see me leaving and run after me or something. Didn’t happen.
I don’t know what made me freak out about him. I don’t know, it kind of sucks. He is leaving in a couple days anyways. Getting kicked out of his house, dropping out of school and out of my life. Best suffer over the loss of nothing now then suffer the loss of nothing when he leaves. Maybe he won’t even say goodbye. I don’t know if I want that sort of ending. Everything would have just been easier if we had just gotten drunk together and he had never spoken to me after that. He still has my bowl though, so I have to talk to him at least one more time to get it back.


Around 9:40:
Blew about a gram of coke to my face, which has been numb for about 8 hours and counting.


September 24th, 2006 7:10p.m.

Seth ran away according to the latest rumor.
No goodbye.
No bowl.

I probably should change the title of this. Seeing as how it was about the past year and how I am continuing to write it in the present.

I could really use another line.

Or maybe 1440. Enough for one line for every minute of every hour for one day.


October 24th, 2006 11:18p.m.

So many things have happened. First of all I am going out with Seth. He is one of the best things to happen to me in such a long time. I feel horrible about the circumstances on which we started going out. I was waiting at The Millery, the place that he was staying at since he did get kicked out of his house, for him to go there so we could hang out and get drunk. We weren’t going out at that point and honestly we hadn’t said anything to each other about any feelings. I considered him to not be interested but I still wanted to hang out. I was with Kim and Nikki just hanging out with Kermit, Chris Amato, Forrest, and Pat. We started drinking because we didn’t know when Seth was going to be there. We went through a liter of vodka and I was very tipsy. I took a couple monster shots out of this shot glass. I almost puked a couple times but managed to hold myself together to let the sick feeling go away and to let the drunk feeling take over. I remember the TV and it getting dark outside. I remember laughing a lot and slowly forgetting why I was at the Millery and who I was waiting for. I started flirting with the boys that were there. Turning into my whore of a self. Talking about dick out loud with Kim. Purposely saying how good I can suck a guy off. After a while the only people there were Chris, Pat, Kim, and myself. Kim left in this blur to go get more alcohol and before I knew it the lights were off, along with my pants, and a dick was being shoved into my mouth. It literally felt like whosever penis it was fucking my face as hard as he possibly could. I didn’t even care about my teeth and apparently he thought I was doing it on purpose and enjoyed it. Having my head smashed into his stomach and this giant thing being shoved down my throat. There was me deep throating because it felt like it went down into my stomach and I honestly wanted to die. It hurt, I couldn’t move because I was so drunk. He had this lock on my head that I will never forget. The taste of sperm was horrible. I wasn’t in control of the situation. This wasn’t how things worked. I was too drunk for this. It was so dark and I was pinned down in a corner on a sofa. He came and it went all over my face. I kept trying to stop what was happening but the alcohol made it very difficult. After he was done the other boy (I didn’t know who was doing what when) shoved his dick in my mouth but was a bit more gentle. I was starting to recover from what the other boy had just done and was in a daze. Perhaps they thought I wanted to keep going. One of them was trying to have sex with me but there was no way in hell I was going to do that. “Baby I need to fuck real bad do you like fucking?“
Thankfully my virginity spoke for me. A quiet no and he kept his dick away from any place but my mouth. He decided that while I was taking care of his other friend that he was going to finger me. I felt this pain in my pants as he was trying to do something to me. Again the drunk kept me from doing anything about it. I can’t quite remember how or why he stopped. My eyes were shut for the most part, contributing to the blackness in my memory for that night.
Thankfully some random people showed up and forced the boys to leave me alone. Kim also showed up with more booze and had me chug. A lot. I was so happy to put what had just happened out of my head for the time being. My memory tells me that it was about 6 or 7 when Kim came back. I felt safe around her. The boys moved towards her because they probably assumed that I was tired from what just happened. Too bad they didn’t forget about me. I remember being slightly pushed into a bedroom with Kim. Slowly clothes came off. I hate how I look so to be completely naked in front of two boys I have never really met before has to prove how drunk I was. But Kim was there. I felt safe. The boys had us completely naked in the same bed. I remember Chris running back into the bedroom because people had just showed up.
My memory flashed back to me. Seth.
I guess my attempt of hiding under the covers wasn’t good enough for him to not see me. I remember peaking up from under a blanket and seeing his face looking through the crack in the door. I made a choice right then and there.
I got up and put my clothes on. Took my handle and went out into the living/kitchen area. He wouldn’t look at me. I felt horrible about myself and I don’t know why. I started smoking a cigarette and drinking more. I think I offered him some of my vodka and he refused. Or maybe he drank some. It is pretty blurry from the drunkenness and the stress. I felt like I had just cheated on him and I didn’t know why. I started getting very upset because I was so confused. I remember asking him if I could talk to him and he said no. I remember screaming “FUCK YOU” and those are the only words I remember. I remember standing in front of him, looking horrible, smelling of cigarette, sex, and booze. I probably wasn’t even standing, it was probably more of a stagger. It is extremely blurry how I left the Millery with him. I don’t know why he took me with him. I don’t know what I said to him to make him take me with him. Apparently there was a lot of drama about the two naked boys and the two naked girls because there was a crowd at the door when I followed Seth out. It felt like a movie, walking down that hallway. Faces sliding by me, laughing hysterically, talking loud. All these kids, some that I knew, some that I didn’t know where all outside the apartment. I followed Seth to a car. I got into the passenger seat and he was driving. It was so wonderfully quiet inside the car. I think one boy and one girl got in. I blacked out a little in the car ride. I remember the highway. A door opening. Getting out of the car. A girl being loud. Getting into the backseat and leaning on Seth. A new boy getting in and driving about a block and the girl freaking out. The two boys got out because the girl was freaking out so bad. They left. I guess the car that was being driven was the girl’s and she was drunk so she was having other people drive it. Seth was in the front driving and I was sitting in the back with the girl trying to calm her down. We ended up near the ice-cream place near Danvers and she got out and took off. I managed to get her back inside the car. When we got on Elliott St. the girl realize that Seth was dropping himself and I off at some kids house. She didn’t like that very much. She started screaming for Seth to bring her home. We ended up getting out of the car and quickly walking away from the girl. I called Ana and she had Cory pick us up and drop us off at Seth’s friend Dave’s house. I remember looking at the clock. 10p.m. I remember clearly that Seth asked me if I “wanted to be his girl”. I said yes. I think he told me that he didn’t care about what had happened because we weren’t going out. I wish that I could remember what we talked about and how I explained myself. I did Oxycotton for the first time. It was a very good feeling. I compared it to coke without the drip or numbing. I was starting to sober up and we started playing cards. I remember kissing Seth. It felt better than any drug, and more importantly it felt real. I took a couple swigs of my vodka and started buzzing again. But it was to much. I felt extremely tired and I knew that I was in a safe warm place. The vodka shut my eyes and the Oxy’s turned off my muscles. I remember leaning on Seth and my memory is that they shut the lights off to watch a movie, but it got boring so they turned the lights back on. I remembering Seth telling me to stand up and I didn’t know how to tell him I couldn’t. I remember standing and somehow being in the other room. Dave had an extra bedroom. Luckily it was all on one level because I don’t know how I could have gotten up the stairs. I remember standing and hearing “Hurry up she’s going to fall asleep in my arms”. I can still feel myself being pushed around on a bed and having my shoes taken off. Having blankets put on me. I remember Seth said something before he left the room. I don’t remember what he said but it made me feel good. I passed in and out and remember hearing Seth talking about me to Dave. I had weird dreams. I heard someone come in the room, do some things and climb into the bed with me. I remember snoring keeping me from going to sleep. I finally managed to open my eyes and I saw Seth lying next to me. He looked so wonderful next to me. We tried sleeping, and he always went to sleep before me and started snoring so I kept him awake for the whole night. It was, I don’t know words to describe how it was. It was. My neck hurt from the hickies he left and it was hard to turn my head for the next couple days. It was such a great feeling him not wanting me to leave in the morning. I would have given anything to stay there forever.





Monday, November 13th, 2006 8:38pm


It’s been a long time since I have written down what has been going on. I figure now would be a good time because I am high on coke, once again. Seth and My one month is tomorrow and I couldn’t be happier.
I also smoked crack a couple times. It was the best feeling in the entire world, aside from being in Seth’s arms.
A lot has happened.
I got wicked drunk and puked in Lawrence while hanging out with Rob and Seth. We were there trying to get an ounce which turned into an eight-ball which I was offered some and I gladly excepted the next day.
My lips are numb.
Cops showed up the other night and found a handle of Soco. Luckily the cop was very nice and he just dumped it out and told us to leave.
I’ve never felt this way before, aside from when our friendship was that wicked awesome thing that it used to be. I feel safe for the first time in my life. One hundred percent safe. I have no fear that Seth will leave me and it is incredible. Even though I know that things like this can end, feeling safe, having someone to rely on. Like you. You ended. I wish you didn’t but I guess I will never know. That whole safety of knowing you were there ended. It is so different with him though. I am sorry that I am ranting about this but it is amazing.
It’s weird because I am comparing him to you. My relationship with him is so completely different, physically and mentally. But still somewhere deep inside my head I keep comparing him to you. I think it is because he wants me to stop doing coke, but I don’t know. It’s so confusing and I love it. I love him. You probably don’t want to read this but I don’t even know at this point if I am going to give this to you anymore.
I mean, why would you want to read this. I don’t know. My mind is racing, probably because of the coke.

I also want to apologize for the way I treat you in class.







Saturday, December 30th, 2:40pm


I hate myself for believing that you would actually do something you said for once, even after years of knowing and experiencing that you never pull threw.



“The world will never, ever be the same, and you’re to blame.”


January 1st, 2007 8:27pm


New Year’s Eve-Day party was horrible. I had a bad feeling about it from the beginning. The bad feeling only covered getting in trouble by my mother or the police, nothing like what actually happened.
About four days before Seth gave me his password and had me check his messages for him. I went through all of his messages. All four hundred and twelve or so. I found some conversation between him and this girl. Him telling her to get naked for him, her KNOWNING he had a girlfriend. All this other shit to. To top it off it was from about 3 days after he took my virginity. To get back at him I did tons of coke. I did a lot. The whole three days before new years. I did it to get back at him. Sounds familiar? I know. Seems to be what I do to people when they betray my trust. So on the 31st we somehow all managed to get to Rob’s house in Georgetown. Tons of alcohol, pot, and coke. I did so much of everything. I got extremely fucked up. Seth asked me to go upstairs with him because he wanted to go to bed. I didn’t want to but was planning on it until I started to get into an intense conversation with everyone there. We all talked about deep things, like our opinions on religion. I absolutely love conversations like that and I forgot about Seth. He came downstairs yelling and being wicked pissed at me. Somehow I ended upstairs with him sitting on a bed yelling and screaming at him. I told him about how I found the messages and how I have been doing coke behind his back. I was drunk and crying and screaming. Everyone heard. I ended up downstairs on the floor crying so horribly. I kept forgetting about what we were fighting about because I was so drunk. I kept blacking out and forgetting where I was. Next thing I remember I am upstairs in bed with him having sex. We were fighting at each other now he is on top of me? I was so confused and drunk. I didn’t sleep the whole night because we didn’t get into bed till about four and Seth snored so loud I couldn’t sleep. I kept crying because I was drunk and so tried and I couldn’t go to sleep and rest and get sober. It was absolutely horrible.

1/25/07
Thursday 9:23

The last thing I say will be sarcastic.
The last thing anyone will do to me is to control me.
I simply refuse to be controlled. Whether it be from my mother or from my boyfriend. Setting up boundaries is like setting me up for failure. Seth thinks that he made me stop doing coke. By telling me no and offering me this insane

What the hell is wrong with me. Am I honestly not stopping doing coke because I feel like it will be giving up my friendship with someone that, honestly, ISN’T EVEN THERE? WHAT THE HELL IS THAT CRAP? What kind of idea is it that I can compare people to drugs. Stupid excuses and I hate making excuses but you know I do anyway. I need to get over things that aren’t there and will never be there.
Like my dad, its been about what, almost five months and he hasn’t sent me a birthday card for my 18th birthday. You think something like that would be important to a father who has minimal interest in his second daughter. Christ what do you do? Get a woman pregnant and then leech off of her for 12 years until she realizes that you are a scum and fucking dumps you. DO YOU REALIZE WHAT KIND OF PROBLEMS I HAVE BECAUSE OF THE FUCKING STUPID SHIT YOU HAVE DONE?
MAYBE I’M JUST MAKING SOME STUPID EXCUSE BECAUSE I AM A STUPID PERSON AND I CAN’T MAKE AND FUCKING DECISIONS AND I BLAME EVERYTHING ON FUCKING OTHER PEOPLE AND BLAH BLAH BLAH I HAVE NOTHING TO LIVE FOR ALL THAT STUPID DUMB WORTHLESS FEEL SORRY FOR MYSELF CRAP.
I FUCKING HATE THE FACT THAT WE WERE EVER FRIENDS AND THAT I EVER SAW HOW NICE OF A PERSON YOU CAN BE TO ME AND HOW YOU MADE ME FEEL OK ABOUT MYSELF.
I cant think
My brain is going in to many directions right now.



Wednesday, February 07, 2007

4:06p.m.

I am starting to have doubts about having you read this. I don’t really understand the point of you reading this anymore.

Asking you dumb things still makes me nervous.

I hate it haha.

Like I just asked you if you still were interested in reading this.

4:16p.m.

So I’m ok about having you read this now, because it is you.








Sunday, February 18th, 11:30p.m.

I find it amazing how time works. It seems like the years are flying but it has been the longest couple of days. I like it this way. Jamie and myself broke away from our friends today and did a couple fat gaggers. It was such a pleasant experience just me and her, being able to do our routine, no other outside forces messing up how “it’s done”. The conversation also was just…nice. That twenty minutes were just such a nice break from all the stress I have been under lately. I applied at C.V.S. because six, seven months unemployed is just not something I want to continue. It sucks. I don’t even know how long afterwards, but it couldn’t have been more than two weeks I got a letter from C.V.S. It turns out that after Walgreen’s fired me they posted a report of what had happened on this employee database center online. They fucking told me they were not going to do that because I was only seventeen and they understood that I knew I had made a mistake and they didn’t want to hurt me getting another job. Obviously I am not going to EVER steal from anywhere again, but they posted a thing about me anyway. Bastards. C.V.S. went into this database, saw this report, and (I’m assuming) were going to hire me up until they saw this little report about me. The report makes it look like I either went into the store or during my shift lifted $200.00 worth of merchandise. First of all, the date they said I did this I was not working. Secondly it was like over months of working there, taking a Gatorade or a candy. I also took make up often, which I understand can add up. I can recall this one time my friend came in the store and I helped her get away with stealing a bunch of shit.
No one knows how bad I feel about this. And don’t get me wrong I’m not just sorry about this whole thing because I got caught, I had no idea what I was actually doing. It didn’t seem like a big deal to me and I just didn’t know. I fucking hate myself for being so stupid and taking for granted how lucky I was to have a relaxed job like Walgreen’s. Sure there were other things I’d gladly do for 7.50 an hour but looking back on it I think it was worth it. There was no way I could know the consequences of my actions. I would take it all back if I could, if that isn’t being said enough.
So what? Am I not going to be able to get a job for the rest of my life? What is the point of living then if I can’t support myself. I wasn’t even 18 at the time. I need to be working for at least 40 years or something. What am I going to do? What is the point of going to college? What is the point of anything? Most importantly WHO THE HELL IS GOING TO ANSWER THESE QUESTIONS?
I googled: What am I going to do?
First link: death clock.com
Monday, September 10, 2046 is my day of death. So I’m going to be 40? That’s pretty sweet. If my math is right. I kind of don’t care right now, about my math that is. Hmm…I had to refresh the pop-up that informed me when I am going to die and the date changed. Pretty sweet. I still find the first answer humorous. I am going to turn 40ish and then the day after my birthday die. Yay for websites.
Next website I check out
Soyouwanna.com/publish book!
Something along the lines of that for the url. I read through that whole thing and it says I need to prepare a proposal and all this crap. My story does not have chapters, because my life does not have chapters. How am I supposed to outline chapters if they do not exist. What is this shit.
Google again:
“publish my book if i'm a teen and it's a stupid book”


Saturday, February 24th 2007.
11:37p.m.


Thisispush.com is having a contest for 7-12th graders to submit a novel for a chance to be published and win all these awards and stuff. I want to submit this, but I don’t really know why. My boyfriend says it’s a bad idea because then everyone will know everything you have just written. I will admit there are some things that people shouldn’t know about me. There probably are things that I have written so far that shouldn’t have been written. There are probably things that I have written in such detail that I should have been vague or just left out. I think I want to submit this because I feel that I have a story to share. I want to connect with someone who has experienced these things. I want someone to pick up my book and be like “hey, I can relate to this 100%”. Even though they shouldn’t be able to relate to this, but hell this isn’t a perfect world and people do things they never thought they would. Most likely someone is going to read this and be like “Wow this girl is insane why would anyone publish this”
When I figure out why I want to submit this I will most likely write it in here, until then the only reason why I want this published is to feel like someone is listening to me, which ties into my inability to let go of being able to confide in you.

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