Loneliness

      There's nothing worse than the feeling of depression. Well maybe one thing. Loneliness. Something not even the most stubbornly, independent person wants. I wasn't lonely. I had many friends. Many that cared and laughed with me. Many that shared and poured their heart out.

      All that changed over one summer. One hotter than hell, but not as hot as the bowl we were passing back and fourth.

      A life long friend of mine had introduced me to my new companion. Marijuana. It was magical. It felt cool. I felt invincible like nothing could touch me. My life was perfect under its effects. It was beautiful, magical, exhilarating! I loved it yet I could control my urge to get high. My down to earth, honest to goodness friends still didn't know about my new fascination. Should I tell them or no?

      It wasn't until school started again that I felt out of place. I hadn't really talked to my other friends, the sober ones, over the summer so being around them was different. I don't know why. It was never like this before so why now?

     There were kids I knew in school that I talked to sometimes. They grew closer to me because they smoked too. My other friends grew more distant everyday. Was it them or was it me? It had to be me. They knew nothing. I must have just lost interest in the lives of the goody two shoes.

       Days passed and I continued paling around my new companion. It was always with me. If now physically, mentally. I loved it. I craved it. I worshiped it. I respected it and it respected me back. On the worst days I would take a little bit in my Purple and Green, plaid, glass bowl and all my troubles would melt away. It was like magic. Something the church would not believe in if it wasn't the works of God.

        So why was this illegal? Why did society frown upon it? It's my body and I should do what i feel is right for it. How many brain cells did i really need anyways?

        One day I went to school high and nobody noticed. It was that easy! It felt great. It was awesome although walking around and paying attention was a b***h. I was too low for concentration and moving around. My friends were weird around me. I didn't care. I was up there. They didn't know. They wouldn't. Though I did feel bad keeping secrets.

         Little did I know they had that suspicion and asked around to my new friends who did rat me out. I was done..... dead to my good friends and I knew it. I was scared of the neglect but I continued playing with Mary Jane. The more my friends tried to intervene I took a new route with my bowl and my buddy. Each hit was something new. Something exhilarating. F**k my friends. What did they know? Nothing but the fact that I was using.

        Eventually on days I went to school sober, my friends wouldn't even look at me. I didn't get invited to outings. I was a distant memory. Sometimes Mary didn't even help. I was lonely. A feeling that not one soul takes kindly to. I was depressed. Even with bowl in hand I couldn't be happy. It was destroying me. I screamed for help to the few brain cells I had left. To God. My savior. To anyone who cared.

         Still stuck in the hell of my new life I didn't know how to cope. No one to talk to, I started talking to myself. I became compulsive. I sat in my room for hours making sure everything was in the right place. I created my own world where I had friends and everything was perfect. When I was high everything in my own little world was crystal clear and more understandable. It was real. Yet it was hard for me when I was depressed. My perfect world fell and I went hysteric one too many times. Somebody must of found me in my gruesome state because here I am now. In my padded room. Sane enough to have paper and pencil but not sane enough to care for myself. It all started with a summer curiosity and spiraled out of control. I remain here with hallucinations of my world. I remain here wishing to die all because I wanted to have a little fun. I remain here.