It was one of the best summers of my life. I fell in love, I fell out of love, I lived , I lost, I partied hard, I tried new things, I loved my life, I wasnt afraid of waking up in the morning.
It was also a disaster, but at that a beautiful disaster . A disaster that changed my teenage life forever. I still can’t answer if it was worth it or if it was not. But its more leaning on the yes side. I want to say it was all worth it, ever single second was worth it. I could say that , if we all came out alive and okay. But we didnt, and throughout the whole summer I knew one of us wasnt going to. I just didnt know it was going to be so painful, I didn’t know these things were permanent. I was in my dreams and I forgot that I was dreaming through reality. And then I woke up, and I just want to go back to sleep, I wanna go back to that dream , or get as close to it as possible.
The pleasure was off the charts, and we had no cares in the world. I lived a dream that almost every teenager wish they could live for one day. It was breathtaking and dramatic, and it shaped the person I am today.
I can’t tell apart the times we were sober or so baked and wasted we didnt know where we were. It didnt matter, even if we were sober life was so euphoric it didnt matter anyways.
Except now I’m misunderstood. All I have are memories and a really broken vision of the world. Whys everything so cut and dry ? Why can’t we just “keep calm” and carry on. Why can’t I just score one more time, I promise if I do things would be easier.
I wanna feel the anticipation of breaking up the white sticky film off the pills, the smell that came through the house, the noise that my air conditioner would make as I fell asleep every early morning as the sun was coming up.
I wanna run around Oakland and smoke 2 or 3 blunts at a time . I don’t even want to be cool, I just want my life back. Nobody has to know, we can pretend nothings happening all over again. I’m deprived of my life, I gave it a chance, I gave it my all, I just don’t know where I went wrong.

