You promised time and time again that you wouldn't end up like this. You even had a t-shirt with that promise on it. In fact, we all had that shirt, but now we wear them ironically. Like a big "fuck you" to the string-pullers.
Taking the screen off the window and getting into the passenger seat of the blue car of bad intentions doesn't even feel wrong anymore.
If you were still yourself, you might feel at least slightly guilty that your pink backpack that was once filled with school supplies and stuffed animals now contained a 26' of vodka, a pack of smokes, and a bag of weed.
The worst part is that you weren't even trying to impress anybody, you had simply lost sight of who you were because there was nothing better to do in this goddamn town.
You were gone before you showed up that wasn't unusual. Some people did shit like this for the euphoria or to give themselves a boost of counterfeit confidence - you don't even know why you do it.
The kitchen is too crowded, with boys shouting about god knows what, you can't even see the living room through the cloud of smoke, and you know better than to step foot in the basement.
You don't even know whose bathroom you're in, but you were told that a kid once ate drywall in here. You're crying in the bathtub because you were supposed to watch your sister tonight and your mother's heart would break if she knew where you were.
And suddenly, there's gold dust up your nose and you're seeing rainbows in the snow. The painting that fell to the floor is speaking to you, you're dancing but you don't even know if there's music playing. You never want it to end.