I call it "The Dance," I got that term from my dad. Its what happens when you can obviously tell someones giving you the andswers that they think you want to hear, rather than just straight andswers. I used to do it to him all the time till he called me on it.

Sometimes its enjoyable to watch someone dance around you for apeasement. This is usually when you've been shorted or ripped off and the connection is doing his little dance to appease you. Offering compensation well beyond what you would want or expect. Of course, its all on their honor. Sometimes thats worth something. More than often it isn't.

But completely unrelated to the game, some people just dance for whatever fucking reason. I'll admit sometimes i lose my temper, but often im more apt to because someone wont quit dancing with me. You have to dig and pry and ask specific questions to recieve even a bit of the biased information. Even then, sometimes you can call them on it, and they play dumb, and that is much more insulting. If your a good liar, and can give the proper amount of bias, keeping it a subtle game sometimes you can pull off the dance. More often than not though, its someone who can't lie, and you can see through it easier than a junkies lie.

Id never watched anyone die before. With death, I had learned along time ago that its best to elevate yourself, get above it and convince yourself that its only part of life and that this person was unimportant. Thats how I dealt with it, even if i was probably in part responsible.

This kid, i didnt know her. I dont think I even knew her name, she was just another one of the scared calls i got, people who took dope and didnt have a clue what they were doing with it. The call,

"Travis, dude, how much do you know about DXM,"
"Enough, why whats the problem (they never called before they took it, always after, so it was always a problem,"
"Well my girlfriend took like 4 capsules full cause she took 2 yesterday and said it didn't do enough, and well now we cant find her,"
"What do you mean cant find her, and how much is in the capsules?"
"I dont know how much is in the capsules, they are like jelly bean sized, and shes gone man, she was here, and im so fucked up man, is she gonna be ok>"
(Typically a Gelcap of "jellybean" size is probably close to 500mg, two would equal 2000 mg and a near lethal dose for a girl of under 100 lbs)

I go over to this guys house, I didnt sell him the dope, i dont know why I did, these fucking kids arent my responsibility.

It looked apperently that she had left the house and gone to the creek that ran behind the house, I manage to get the incoherent fucks some flashlights and had them follow me. We search the woods, well I search, they just kind of followed me, till I found her, passed out cold with vomit all around her, completely incoherent, her eyes were open but almost grey they were so glassy. I bet shes fucking invincible right now, or was about 2 hours ago. Shes still breathing, barly and I manage with the help what i could have guessed was her crying boyfriend got her back inside the house.

"Im not taking her to the hospital, but she needs to go, Im taking her to home," I said, "Where does she live?

A wave of protests arose, they couldnt take her home, Id have to take her, this and that, police this, parents that.

"2000mg is a near lethal dose,"

The protests stopped, I didnt want to let them know that because when people think someone is about to die they stop thinking, but I was not taking this fucking stranger to the hospital. The boyfriend caves and I drive the two of them to her house. I explain to her crying mother that she needs to go to the hospital now while the father yells at the boyfriend. He punches the doped up kid right in the mouth and he goes down, bloods coming from somewhere. I didnt want this, i fucking leave, let the girl die, she deserves it for thinking shes so invincible, let the boyfriend never see her again.

Fucking dope man, it ruins lives, I go to apt. 205 to get drunk and forget this sorrid fucking tale of suburbia, but not before counting how many tabs i have in the hollowed out chap-stik container in my pocket.

From the moment i met her, i knew she was different, or made me feel different. I thought i had been in love before, but it was nothing like this. This girl was just always on my mind, its like she was inside me. At this point in my life I had no idea what these emotions were, and it takes a long time to figure what to really do with all these feeligns that you've never felt before, all the insecurities. I am invincible, but somehow when im around her, im afraid, just afraid cause there are so many things that can go wrong, and im such a peice of shit. What have i ever done to deserve her.

A girl can do amazing things to a guy. At the peak of my career in the black market, she made me want to stop it all. I had everything you could superficially want and i wanted to throw it all back for her. I didn't and it was probably the worst mistake of my life, but i wanted to. Even now, as i write this, knowing she is gone forever, lost to the ways of the other assholes that are just "nice guys," I just wonder what it would have been with her. I don't know. Thats just it, i never knew, you never fucking know anything till its too late. I knew that if i stayed in the game long enough, eventually i would get caught, everyone does, but I didnt acually understand what that meant till i was being kept awake in a holding cell by some 300lbs assholes snoring.

Theres two types of knowing, what you are told and what you have experienced, the latter being the one you will usually act on. Curiosity is the downfall of humanity, very few of us are conent with just hearing what is out there. We have to see, go find out for ourselves and come back scarred and useless, but we had to know for sure, and i hate that, because i want to be different, but at the same time, i know im exactly like everyone else. But i cant be like everyone else, because she thinks im different, she acually knows who I really am, and likes it. And thats a wonderfull feeling, especially in the world of image that i was currently caught up with. Most girls i met, i wanted to drag down to the pits of hell with me, cause thats where i was going and i wanted company. But not her, this girl I would take an eternity in the lowest pits, just to make sure she achieved salvation, and that right there, is probably one of the most confusing and fucked up emotions that you can ever feel. And im bombarded with it.

Im staring in the mirror again. I don't know what to do with that face staring back at me. I HATE IT, i hate looking into those shifty eyes. I know he wants to fight me, i know that if that man on the other side of the mirror was here now he'd be trying to kill me. Luckily the glass prevents him from coming to my side.

I just stare blankly at the mirror

That can't be me. I dont look like that at all, im strong, im smart, im pretty, im fucking invincible, not this stranger staring back at me. I pull out my knife and hold it to my own throat, slowly pushing the blade into the soft spot on the bottom of my jaw, not enough to break the skin, yet, just enough so that bastard in the mirror does it to, because i know he mimics my every move. He wants to be me, but hes not me, he cant be me, i should push the knife in deep and across the throat and watch him bleed out and writhe on the floor, ha!, thatd serve him right for mimicing me. I push the knife deep enough to draw the tiniest bit of blood. Im playing this goddamn game of chicken with the man in the mirror again, i always loose this game, i puss out and put the knife away and he laughs at me, knowing he wins again. He will always win. I hate that man in the mirror staring back at me.

The sound of a bat connecting is muffled by his skin and heavy jacket. He went down, one swing to the upper back, never even saw me behind the staircase. I stand over his crumbled moaning form and laugh. Haha mother fucker what now? and grab him by his hair and pull him so he can see my face.

This isnt just for me, this is for everyone this guy has ever ripped off, for all the disrespect, for all the times he showed up where he knew he wasnt supposed to be.

I was sober.

I throw his face into the concrete. I see a little trail of blood start to go off the edge of the balcony and realize i better get this over with quick. I pull him, struggling into the darker area of the stairwell and give him a swift punch in the jaw to put him back on the ground. He is my bitch. He manages to try and say something but i cant hear it. Im seeing red, i cant focus, i cant think, all i can think about is just how much trouble this mother fucker has caused and how snide he was when he thought he got away with it. I pull my foot back and land a steel capped toe to his temple. He goes limp. I leave, slowly, dont need to draw any attention to myself. I dont care if that fucker lives or dies, just as long as he learns to keep his mouth shut. Should have brought a needle and thread so i could sew his lips together.

Its getting to the point where i shouldnt even bother speaking anymore. The thoughts in my head, i think, are signifigant, but when i bother trying to tell anyone else of my new found revaltions, they shrug it off, dont listen, nod their head and act like they care, but i know it means nothing to them. My word has become meaningless. I'm not a dishonest man, just have a heard time knowing which promises are important, or at least thats what i tell myself to get to sleep at night. Of course, i haven't been sleeping all that much anyway.

I know this is the start, i know now that this is the start of what would become a downhill slide that would effect me for the rest of my life, but at this time, i dont care. The chemicals have made me impervious to anyone elses emotions except my own. My own emotions have been dubbed down more into impulses most of which revolve around putting more of the chemical into my body. I think, i cant go on like this forever, eventually something will happen, i will be broken, but not today, today i am fucking invincible.

When your trying to think of your theme, the best question to ask yourself is What are you trying to say? What message do you want to get across to your readers?

I know your bored, i know we are all trapped in this cookie cutter existance and it sucks, but there are ways to find yourself in here. We are all being force fed depression, and the drugs to cure it, illicit and not, but there are other ways around it.

Orginially, i was going to try and make this a complete story from start to finish, but im going to switch it over to just peices i want in the complete story, which is on my laptop.

...my heart is racing, the combination of driving like im insane and cocaine has increased my heartrate beyond what im sure it is capable of. I slip it into 5th and watch the tachtometer jump and hear the engine drop in tone. I dont know why im going so fast, i cant think, my thoughts are going 120 miles and hour and so am I and the only logical conclusion i can come to is, to just go faster, because if i go faster i will get home sooner and the sooner I get home, the safer i will be.

At some points you really have to admire your own logic when your speeding.

The lights that i pass are more like streaks, i cant focus on anything, i wonder, maybe my vision is fucked up. HOW MUCH HAVE I HAD TO DRINK? I can't count, i can count the lines....last time i went into the bathroom, 9, i dont think i did as many before in my subsequent trips to the bathroom, but the time before i left, it was 9. I hear honk. OH SHIT, was that me? Did i do something, I slow down. Ok, time to think, where am I, almost home, why are you going home? Why did you leave? Why in gods name do i have so many simple questions in my head, and yet none of the andswers. I see my turn, take it, going slow. I hate going slow but i know this street is laced with cops and I have to, I make it home.

Just another night where i shouldn't have survived the drive home.

Its amazing how invincible you are at the start of the foray into chemicals. I guess every young teenage boy feels invincible when the first rush of testosterone hits. The police are not an issue, your health is infinite, there is nothing you cant do, what is that drug? sure ill try it once, its cant be THAT bad for me. Oh? You say it will permantly destroy my ablility to ... ahh it can't be that bad, ive been lied to all my life, i dont know why i should believe you now.

I got started with dope like anyone else. Bored, everyone else was doing it, i wanted to be like everyone else, yet insist i was different. My first experience was from one of the most amazing girls ive ever met. She handed me some red pills before class, and 2 hours later, i was pissed, i felt nothing. Then right as class was ending, i noticed i couldnt focus, and started sweating, i went pale, felt like i was going to faint. I couldnt think, luckily we were watching a movie and i just had to make sure that the teacher didnt notice i was sweating all over the desk. Bell rings, im in a daze, i make it to the hallway, the girl with the pills is talking to me, but i cant hear anything, she looks worried, and i look down and my hands are white. I start walking home, my house wasn't too far from the school, so i just stumbled home in a confusing mess, my perceptions were shot, changed, i didnt know what to think of it. I get home and my little brothers are watching the little mermaid, this only confuses me and i stand staring at the screen for 30 minutes, backpack still on, door still open. My mother stared at me for a long time, later i would get to know this stare quite well, but to me right now it was alien. And that was it, that was the start.

Of course the easiest and most obvious way out of the bordem is dope. But theres also fighting, bitching, scenesterism, god, or depression. No one makes it out without one of those attached to their psyche.

I wasn't any exception, everyone will tell you THEY are the exception, that THEY are the one person who is going to break the mold and change the way people think about .... whatever. Well they are wrong, I don't know why everyone insists on being special, and why they can't accept that they are just another variable in the equation that has be solved a thousand times before them. But like everyone else, at the start, i was convinced i was different.

Its my town, it could just as well be anyone else's. They are all the same, same wal-mart and walgreens, same cookie cutter housing districts with one tree for each yard, a tree that will never make it to maturity. Thats the point though isn't it? Each district is exactly the same as the last and everyone can have an equal standing, and the developers can go and make another neighborhood, another town and name the streets with obscure references to their friends and family. It didn't matter anyway what the towns name is, because it was my town. At 5'11 and 120 lbs, i was fucking invincible and these were my streets. This demented experiment i call suburbia starts when your about 10, when you realize that despite what has been ingrained in you since kindergarden, you are not all the same. Some people are smarter, some people are prettier, some people are just fearless. Then as you start to uncover these differences amongst yourself, like tribes, we divide ourselves up into the groups we know we belong in...And that is where it all starts because immediatly after that, you get bored.

Thats the thing about suburbia, everyone is bored out of their skull, so we find ways to get past the boredem.