I was just sitting here, typing away, thinking my thoughts, when it struck me. An overwhelming urge. I want to get drunk. And right now it's all I can think about. I am secretly depressed beneath my outer shell, so secretly that even I do not know it. I only say this because logically that must be why. Mustn't it? I hate drugs. I hate alcohol. But do I hate myself? I... don't think so... But it seems so clear right now. What I want, and what I want to do, is to get drunk, and stand up, and dance to this Depeche Mode music that I've got playing. The music flows straight to my heart, which is warmed by the single swig of Kahlua I've just taken. I can't drink any more of my grandma's alcohol, because she would know, and because I would feel guilty. I'm already on probation for stealing alcohol I didn't steal. Fucking paranoid parents. They yell at me for what I don't do, and I get away with everyhing. I want to move to Australia. Or the Netherlands. Netherlands sounds so nice. Kind of like Neverland. Not the Michael Jackson one. The Peter Pan one. Where you never grow old and cynical and stupid. I want to be in college. And rich enough to stay there for ten years. And party. With a good enough GPA that they won't kick me out. It would be a dream come true. Somebody, rescue me tonight. ~ Beth