It starts innocently enough: with a comment from a random girl asking how I'd lost so much weight over the summer. She then implied that she hoped it wasn't from what she had heard it was from (drugs). I said people talked a lot of shit and she shouldn't believe everything she hears. I walk away feel happy someone has noticed the weightloss, but pissed that they attributed it to drugs. I worked hard to be this thin, I don't want anyone to think I accomplished it any way other than hard work. But this was not the only comment I got. Later on that day, when I was high on xanax, I heard someone yell into the classroom I was occupying while passing through the hallways, "Crack kills!" Comments like these make me want to do a bunch of drugs and slit my wrists to end it all.

Lately I've just been surviving. Making it day to day, barely finding anything worthwhile to make worth going on. Right now I'm surviving for that next hit, that next pill, that next time I see my boyfriend, and because I know it would disappoint my mom too much if I gave up and gave in. But I've been thinking lately: what am I living for? Why try anymore? I'm just living so that I can get high. I'm trying to get into college right now, but when I think about college I'm really thinking about all the partying opportunities that it promises.

There is no hope.

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