early2000s | fuckshit x oc | mid90s

December 21, 1999

Fuckshit's POV

68 degrees in the wintertime. That's LA for you. No white Christmas or anything like that. It's cool though, fuck Christmas. I don't even like that shit anyway. Shit's overrated as fuck. All the 20 years I've lived here, I've never wished I were somewhere else. LA's the place for me, and I was sure of that. From the weather to girls, to the lifestyle, everything. It was just made for me.

Tomorrow is the 2 year anniversary of Ray leaving to go on tour. He's real fucking talented. He's always wanted to do something with his life, and he ended up actually doing it. That could've been us on tour together. How dope would that be? Me and my best friend, traveling the world doing what we love. It's crazy how things can change so fucking fast. I'm angry at myself. How I let an opportunity like that just slip through my hands. I don't know why I took a break from skating, but once I was back into it, it was too late. That nigga was gone.

I was alone. Shit, I mean, I had Fourth Grade, Stevie, and Ruben. But those niggas didn't understand me the way Ray did. He talked a lot of shit, but I know he just wanted the best for me. I didn't see that. I wanted to live out my senior year and do whatever the fuck I wanted. I was here for a good time, not a long time. That was the start of my decline. I went to parties every weekend and really gave zero fucks.

Senior year, one party really changed me for the worst. Don't get me wrong, I've smoked my fair share of weed. But this shit was different. Shit probably had coke in it or something. Next thing I knew, I woke up to that familiar skunk smell in some random bitch's kitchen. I was hungover as fuck from whatever I smoked that night and a whole bottle of WKD Blue, shit's fucking gnarly. This one guy came up to me and gave me this little pill. I didn't know what it was, I just took it hoping it would make me feel better.

Safe to say, it definitely didn't help my fucking hangover. But that shit felt good. I think about that night a lot, I still don't know what that nigga gave me. I just felt like I was in a dream. I thought I fucking died. Honestly, I kind of hoped that I was in heaven or some shit. It was like I was a newborn baby, bundled up in a blanket. That's what it felt like. I've tried so many different pills just to get that same effect, but I couldn't find one that made me feel like that.

Ever since then, I've been experimenting and popping pills almost every day. If I couldn't get my hands on any, I smoked weed.

My physical and mental health were fucked, I didn't even see it coming. Ray wasn't at the party that night, but he noticed that I was a little more fucked up in the head than usual. I figured he knew that I was on something, but I never elaborated what I was doing to fuck myself up. That nigga had too much on his plate already. I didn't want to add more fuel to the fire.

As I stared at the ceiling, I exhaled the smoke coming out of my mouth. I felt safe in my bedroom. It was mine, and nobody else's. My eyes wandered to posters of Mike McGill, Tony Hawk, Gonz; finally settling on a picture of me, Ray, and Fourth Grade from when we were freshmen. Shit flies by. I never believed people when they said that high school would be the best and fastest four years of your life. Shit, I don't know about it being the best, it was an experience but it was definitely fast.

I'd been up for about 20 minutes at this point. No idea what time it is, I don't really care either. I have nothing to do. My mouth curved into a smile as I remember the party pack that I had bought earlier that week. I sit up, ready to pop a pill or two.

I love drugs. Simple. Don't worry, It's not like I do heroin or any hard shit like that. My number one choice would probably be some type of pill though. I first tried Ritalin when I was 17. Shit was prescribed to me by some psychiatrist who said I had ADD. I smoked a lot back then so I never really paid much attention to it. But ever since that party, I been popping it more than usual. Shit, It's not my fault I got prescribed, right? It's kind of over hyped, but it's something when I have nothing.

Xanax? Fuck. That shit is dope. When I pop it, I feel numb. Like, comfortably numb. The first time I took it, there was this whole euphoric feeling that I wanted to be in forever. I know it's fake happiness though. The thing is, I didn't know how deep I was in until I became a full out addict.

The only opioid I actually like is Vicodin. Everything else is too risky for my taste. Well, actually that shit is dangerous as fuck, not the point though. It makes me zone out more than I already do. It makes me feel good, a little too good. It's pretty cheap, so I take it the most out of everything.

Molly is my party drug. It feels like I'm in Atlantis or some shit. It's like you're floating, everything is brighter, everyone is happier. You're the music. You know that happy stuff that's in your body? It feels like all of that gets released all at once. It just makes me happy. The comedown? Shit hits like bricks and you realize it's just some more fake happiness.

The doorknob suddenly turns and swings open, without me being able to react.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

Fuck, shit.

My joint fell, and I could hear it bounce up and finally land on the floor. I immediately balled my hand up in a fist to try to hide the Vicodin.

My parents caught me taking pills a couple times before. They were fucking ruthless. My mom's dad used to be a fucking crack addict or some shit, so she was tweaking on me because I was doing drugs. I know I disappointed her, especially because of how she grew up, making her way up from a crack house to being successful in LA. But, this is me. Shit, my dad? That nigga's fucking crazy. Kicked me out one time for the rest of the weekend to make me "think about what I did". Acting like I wasn't a whole 19 year old. I don't need no fucking time out.

"Let me see your hand, boy."

Fuck no. I wasn't gonna waste pills on this nigga. As he started to walk towards me, I popped that shit in my mouth and swallowed as hard as I could, maintaining eye contact with him. If I was gonna be in trouble, it was gonna be while I was in Wonderland.

"You think you slick? Not in this house 'lil nigga."

I scrambled to the pill bottle that was laying on my bed and quickly screwed it open. Shit, I took a couple more, just 'cause I can.

He grabbed my jaw, trying to open my mouth. He knew what I just did, but he didn't know what to do. My first instinct was to slap his hands away. I stuck out my tongue so he could see that I had already swallowed them. His gaze fell to the burnt out joint on the carpet. His eyebrows started to furrow even more. I felt my straight face start to morph into a smirk, then a chuckle. Apparently, my dad didn't find this funny at all. All I heard was blurry noise coming in and out of my ears. I didn't know what he was screaming about, I just closed my eyes, and waited for him to shut the fuck up.

I guess I was waiting for a while because when I opened my eyes, I wasn't in my safe place anymore.