Whatever makes you happy...

She opens the little tin hidden under her bed and opens her little packet of happiness, adds a pinch of vanilla tobacco and mixes it all up to gooey perfection. Recipe for her favourite rescue remedy, sealed with a kiss in a roll of rizler paper...
Pretty poetic, you got to admit. And she burned one down, she did.
Just another fucked up night, in a hopelessly fucked up life.

Queen Bee apparently. She snorted. Like fuck... She wasn't in control of any fucking thing in her life. And it drove her insane... Not that she was any freak obsessed with her self. Oh hell, maybe she was. Aren't we all.

She tuned up the psychedelic shit she was so attracted to thesedays. Damn it felt good.... and the green shit really kicks in... Man, who would have thought she'd relapse back into this shithole. But everyone's in this shithole, she consoled herself.

He prefers his green to her. They all seemed to. Her friends... the guy who wouldn't get outta her head. She'd done the experimentation and thought she had learnt her lesson. Then though, when you can't beat em, join em right? Yeah... Fuck yeah...

What did she have to lose anyway? People already call her a 'holic', though there would be these freakish variations between these percieved additions she got labelled with. She thought after a whole lifetime of too much attention she'd fucking be used to it all. She'd get over it. Y'know?

It only got worse everyday. She screamed... and screamed and screamed. All these thoughts echoing in her head... The high didn't even make her feel good anymore. She couldn't stand all this anymore. "I have good people in my life who would take me away from all this if I gave them a fucking chance..." Mumbled in a slurr...

The nails were digging into the flesh of her thighs. I don't get high anymore... It's fucking normal now. I need something stronger... Sugar is just a bloody phonecall away...and baby, this kinda "diabetes" might actually save my life...

The thoughts kept getting more psychotic, she realised. More provocative... and definitely more possible.

She picked up her N95 and punched in a few numbers. "Bitch, get ya ass here and bring me some strong shit"

She hung up. That easy. Man... What a fucked up place to live. She looked around. Shit, out of rizlers. She started scrambling around the drawers... Damn, damn damn... And then she saw the album. Nostalgic feelings started to creep up...

She flipped through a few pages. Fuck... she didn't recognise herself. She was never goody-two shoes... but she was never this pathetic. Some bad ass wannabe looser with absolutely no life to look foward to. Tears welled up in her eyes....

Yeah maybe everyone did have the same sob story, and maybe she needed to stop acting so stupid. She just couldn't see a way out of the abyss ... she really couldn't see the future. And when you arealone, that's shit scary... and... she was completely terrified. Terrified of tomorrow...

And she had prayed for salvation for so long. She slammed the album to the floor and momentarily enjoyed a sense of peace and satisfaction at the torn pages before lapsing under a gigantic wave of depression.

Grabbing the hair on her head she just bent down and pressed her face onto her lap, and she felt the warm tears soak the cloth and trickle down her. She felt dirty. Guilty. Broken. Used. Life became meaningless in a matter of years.

People she was close to, strangely.. yeah they seem to think she can handle everything thrown her way. Seem to think that she didnt care... Seem to think she was some kind of survivor. But the truth is, today was the lowest point of her life. No one noticed. Today, she had the drive to tighten the noose and jump off the stand. No one seemed to have a fucking clue.

There was a knock on the door. She knew this time she'd go through with it. For the first time in her life THEY were right. She didn't care. Any more.