Typical summer day of 05

I have two weeks of school left. Next week is the last week of classes, followed by mid terms.

Typical Early Summer Day in 05

“I laid there, awake. My eyes felt heavy and my thoughts were still fuzzy The fan circulated cool air over my naked body. I felt dehydrated. Ever since I moved to Florida, where it’s 80 plus even at night, I found myself waking up with my clothes torn off.  Behind my eye lids I could tell it was bright. I cracked my eyes to inspect the room and was met with a blinding burn. They remained closed. I thought about the previous night, or what I could. My body felt sore and my stomach felt upset and nauseas. I wanted to curl up into a ball. Instead I tried to forget about the pain. I rolled over on my side and rubbed my eyes. I could smell the lingering smoke on the tips of my finger. I thought about the cigarettes I smoked last night. Chain smoked. Packs. It made me all the more nauseas. I cleared my through and began coughing, releasing phlegm and a thick mucus, probably mixed with rotten tar and chemicals, into my mouth.
 I don’t know when I decided to get up but I know it was late. Probably the early afternoon. I didn’t bother to look at the clock. I walked to the bathroom and relieved myself. It was an awful feeling. Like releasing the demons the infiltrated me the night before. I stripped and looked at myself in the mirror. Skinny. Bony. ‘I’m losing weight.’ I thought to myself. ‘Not worried about it. I can pull it off.’. Like that was good justification for the abuse and lack of attention to health. I looked like shit. I took my shower and got dressed for the day, looking through my cell phone and trying to compile the events of the night before. I got wasted. Pretty high. I think I took a bar or two. It was 2:30pm when I walked out the door.
The air was hot, humid and sticky. It felt like I was swimming in it. I jumped on my pink skateboard and called Jerry for weed. I’m not big into smoking; only when I’m bored and start thinking about how shitty everything is. I got the number of his friend so I gave him a call and arranged to meet up. I forgot to ask for his name. Oh well. It was in a close neighborhood, not a bad skating distance. I continued to think about the night before. It’s Saturday today, last night was Friday. I don’t think I’ve gone for a full school day in some time. I started thinking about how school was going. It made me cringe inside. I started feeling discouraged. ‘Fuck it. I’m not built for school. My mind doesn’t have the attention span for the classes. Why do something if I don’t know why I’m doing it? Or if I don’t care? It’s a waste of time and energy.’  I continued these thoughts as I cruised down the street.
Jared. I remembered his name. I rolled up to his street and saw him walking towards me. We greeted like old friends, exchanging the handshake and half hug. He was sorta ‘ghetto’ but maintained a cool surfer/skater edge. I don’t even know.
We talked as we caught up about random bullshit. He gets excited as he starts telling me about his week.
“So bro, earlier this week it was soo crazy. I almost died. yea. I almost died. No joke it was crazyyy. So check it out.  I was in school and the school police officer was checking my locker between classes and I had painkillers in my sock so I dipped to the bathroom and sorta freaked out. I just popped like eight percocets. I was in class like drooling. Callin out and talkin shit to the teacher. Haha. It was so funny. I was tellin big black kids to shut the fuck up, tellin my teacher to suck it. I was sooo fucked up.”
I thought about everything he was saying. It was surreal, his excited mannerisms that indicted his exuberant excitement of an experience that he, most likely, barely lived to tell about.
“So like after school I was so messed up I couldn’t even see straight. I was walkin and everything seemed far away. So I remember walkin to a bus stop and there was a lady and I walked up to her and just stared at her. Haha. She asked me if I was alright and I just stared. The crazy part was it started raining and I just lied down on the ground and passed out. Yup. Straight up just passed out on the curb, traffic goin by, this lady staring at me. I woke with an ambulance there and I was in a stretcher and again I woke up in a wheel chair at the hospital. They said I was sitting there in the rain throwin up on the ground. It was sooo crazy, scary, but I think that’s the most I’ve ever been fucked up! It felt sooo good though!”
I was entertained at this aim of being extremely ‘fucked’ up’. Like it was living on the edge. I knew it was stupid, but it seemed appealing. Seeming satisfying to think about the possibility of not feeling, yet feeling so good. I enthusiastically explained my adventure the night before. Something I barely could make out, but had done it enough times to make up a pretty probable scenario for us to both laugh and kid about.  We walked to the corner  of the park where we exchanged money casually. Almost simultaneously a white Cadilac creeped around the block in our direction. Tinted windows and gaudy gold rims. Probably our drug dealer. I laughed at the quaint stereo-type. He told me he’d be back. The car pulled up, he hopped in and took off down the street. I sparked a cigarette and walked to a bench a little ways away with a nice awning for shade. I sat down, placing my face in my hands. I rubbed my scruffy unshaven face, running my fingers through my hair. It was long. I liked it long. I felt weathered, seasoned, experienced. I scratched my scalp and looked to the sky.  It was gorgeous out. Never mind the heat. The sunshine was worth it. The palm trees, the birds gracefully catching the heat thermals enabling them to effortlessly float high above.
I picked splinters in the pick-nick table with anxiousness. Would he fuck me over?
As I thought this I looked up to see him walking in my direction, a wide smile sat under his glasses.
“You smoke?”
“Dude- this bud it dope. He had blunts rolled and we sparked one up and just blazed. I hit that shit so hard.”
I was a little jealous but I knew I was getting high soon. I didn’t feel like splitting the weed up, figured I’d smoke it in a few hours anyway, so I suggested he just hold onto it. He pulled out his bowl, packed it, and handed it to me. I sparked it and took a huge rip, holding it with my cheeks almost bursting.
I was high. At first a little high. Then very high. So high I couldn’t think. I actually hated this feeling every time, but I enjoyed it over feeling sober with the cold facts of reality screaming me in the face. I don’t know where my parents were today. Then again I really didn’t care. We sat there for a good while before getting munchies and making our way to his house.
I grabbed my last share of a little weed nugget and said peace. I headed toward the direction of him. I wasn’t going home though. I got on my phone and made some calls, checking up to see what everyone was up to tonight, returning the phone calls of people I decided against talking to while I was stoned outta my mind. The sun was going down. It was getting darker.  I was gonna get fucked up tonight. Drunk. Maybe some crazy shit if I’m lucky.”