EVERYTHING IS SHIT
sixth grade was when i started phucking with pharmateuticals. a brisk fall morning and a bellyful of Benadryls, i went to go watch my siblings soccer game and all i remember is swirls of color. the grass melted and blended with the sky, the trees, my sister's soccer jersey and i ended up collasping dizzy behind a row of empty bleachers, a stupid grin plastered on my face as i laid there plastered. ninth grade presented itself in the soft blue cylindrical shapes of tylenol PM's, 12 of which made me sick as a motherfucker one day before school. i remember next to nothing about that save for vomiting in the bathroom, wavering concerned faces. eighthninthtentheleventh yielded copious amounts of alcohol, most of it yours, some (the jello shots, the baileys, etc) from *ahem*.... friends.
what i'm getting to, where this is going is that i've long since had a tendency towards masochism. you were the one who grabbed my hand in 5th grade and laughed at the immature star i had carved on the back. well, i've turned in my safety pins for shotglasses. so don't come at me fucking surprised when you find out that i've done drugs. don't bother caring now. i'm eighteen in a few months, it's little late. now i'm the one that doesn't care.
and yeayeayea, fuck the juvelnile stories of abuse and neglect, 'you didn't loved me, you loved me too much, you hit me and hated me and blahblahblah.' send it to chicken soup for the soul and get over it. i'm not going into details about what a shitty ass mother you've been because for one thing, it's a waste of my time and secondly, you really weren't that bad. you do love me and you've sacrificed your good health and lord knows what else to give us what we have. and i'm grateful. but i'm also painfully fucking aware of everything else and i'm beyond it all. i'm sick to fucking death of this bullshit. all i have left to say is i love you, but please leave me the fuck alone.