She hands me the spliff and I take a long drag, the fragrant White Widow smoke filling my lungs. I love this weed, relaxing me all over, but not dulling my mind. Or my libido.
“You’re gonna enjoy it, I’m sure. It’s so Stephen King-ish,” he said to me during one of our summer chitchats. The book fell into oblivion then, mostly because we were too busy making out.
My home was now a crime scene, everything I owned was evidence. I watched the light go out on the bright, outgoing, creative 22 year old and a ghostlike shadow take her place.
Spike is my greatest weakness. He's my fandom and first fictional boyfriend. He also paved the way for all of the blonde, blue-eyed boyfriends I would ever have.
It’s 2 am on a school night and I’m getting high, scrolling through Reddit. r/HipHopHeads has become my internet home, the place where I get away from my problems.
They loved Frank Sinatra and cigarettes and bell-bottoms and platform shoes and sneaking out in the middle of the night and being all kinds of Dazed & Confused. Absolutely brilliant.
Without even intending it, I start to walk away from my religion. It is not a pleasant journey. I feel alone. I can’t tell anyone because everyone I know believes in God. I am an outcast. I am an X-Man.
There’s that disorienting feeling again, and Dane and I are walking home from school. I remember this day well. The school bully, Mike, is following us. I know what happens next.
She takes hold of her ebony Queen. I can’t help but admire the piece, its intricate details standing out against the contrasting background of her pale skin. “I can’t believe you gave up your advantage,” she says. She knew what I was going to do before I did it. It’s like she can see my future. But I can’t see hers.
