early2000s | fuckshit x oc | mid90s

December 23, 1999 II

"But you have to believe that you can do this. Be a better you for you. Not for others."

I think that's something I'll always remember. It's not like Jim and I were best friends, but he was someone I was able to talk to, even if it was only for 2 days.

I got in the backseat of the BMW. I didn't even know where we were going, or what the facility was even called, but I didn't want to think about it. I tilted my neck to the side and let my body relax as we drove down the interstate. This was the first time my parents have driven me somewhere since the 10th grade. I remembered that I left a Walkman in the little pouch in front of my seat a couple of years ago on purpose, just in case. Now I have a reason to actually use it. My music taste hasn't really changed since then. I put on the headset and pressed play. Lord Knows by Tupac was the first song.

I stared through the window, leaning my head against it. The sky was gray, no specks of white, just gray.

"I smoke a blunt to take the pain out. And if I wasn't high, I'd probably try to blow my brains out."

That line really hit different today. I turned away from the window and drop my head against the headrest. I rolled up my sleeve and started to scrape my fingernails against it. I like seeing the white lines that are left over from when I do that. I do it whenever I'm nervous. It really doesn't help, but it kind of helps me take my mind off things.

I looked back out the window and started looking at every car that passed by. I wanted to look for blue cars, so I played iSpy by myself for however long until I dozed off.

I don't know how long I slept for, but when I woke up, the car wasn't moving.

"You woke up just in time," mom said.

I pulled myself up, gripping to the metal parts of the headrest in front of me and peered over to the front of the building.

Beverly Hills Rehab Center.

"Why are we in The Hills?" I asked.

"We figured it would be better if you were somewhere else. It's not that far from home," my dad replied.

"I did a lot of research for programs and this seemed to be the best fit for you as well," my mom added.

Man, I hate Beverly Hills. Actually, I wouldn't say I hate The Hills itself, but I really don't fuck with the people here. Everyone is so fucking judgmental. It's just a bunch of rich white people who think they're better than everyone and teenagers who think they're all that because of daddy's money.

Me and Ray used to go on Rodeo Drive to skate sometimes. Those were the fucking days. Swerving around people and shit, scaring them into dropping their shopping bags. Funny as hell.

"Well, are you ready?" My mom asked.

"It doesn't really matter if I am, does it?"

She sighed and whispered, "I love you."

I shook my head and snatched the duffel bag that was packed for me.

We headed inside.