Anyways, let’s get back to the sequence of events that caused me to end up incoherent and stoned out of my mind this morning. It all started when my brother left for college two years ago. You see, because my parents were too busy banging their lovers, drinking five hundred dollars bottles of wine and running a billion dollar industry, my brother was the only person in my direct blood line that played a role in my childhood. I had a nanny and a housekeeper and what not, but there was nobody there who I trusted wholly and completely like I did my darling brother Christian. He always made sure that I treated people with the sheer amount of respect that I gave him, that I got my homework done, and all of that jazz. When he left, I was entirely on my own, aside from the times when my dad’s secretary came over to try and give me a mother figure. To be honest, I don’t think my dad ever mentioned that I actually have a mom; she’s just spent more of her time with her 23 year old boy toy then she has with me in the past 7 years of my life. She sits at our country club pool and drinks mimosas with her plastic 50 year old clique while I sit getting stoned to fill her place. Of course the maids were always there, but they were never any use to me. I kept my things in order and did everything for myself, seeming as I hate making people do the things that I should be doing for myself.  My brother used to call me everyday and come home whenever he could. Slowly, as his career began to take off even more than it had, he rarely even had the time to send me a text. So feeling stranded and abandoned, I found myself desperately relying on my hot commodity boyfriend who everyone desired. Being able to harness a bad boy like him made all the boys want me, and all the girls want to be me. It was great for a while. I was perfect and nothing felt better than knowing I was.  He was able to love me fully and watch over me when my brother couldn’t. I was still okay, until September 21st of that year.

On September 21st, that boy, my boy, who everyone wanted, became that guy who everyone feared. Why, you might ask. Well on that average fall night, Mike Tompkins threw his monthly rager that all the seniors went to, including my boyfriend and I. Everything was great, the booze was great, the music was great, and the people were the best. Bodies collided on the dancefloor while others took the hand of a stranger, escorting them to a more “private” room. I remember it so well; the remix to Original Don blared through the speakers moving my body in such a way that made heads turn. As I began to run out of space to move in the mosh pit, I made the consecutive decision to check the time. Even though I had no parents to force me to leave, I knew that nothing good would come out of being here later than four in the morning. The time on my phone was 2:35 AM; that was also the time that my boyfriend handed me another solo cup with some drink he brought over from the mini bar. Thirsty and partially sober, I decided to down the drink as fast as I could, then another one.The next thing I remember, I was nauseous and unable to lift my skin and bones from the linen clad bed that seemed to have entrapped me in its invisible restraints made possible by the roofies I had just ingested. My eyes had then subtracted one half of the double vision that seemed to be a nasty side effect. There, in front of my seemingly heavy body, sat my boyfriend. His face showed no remorse as he snickered at my pain, throwing away all love I thought he ever had for me.  The sickest part about it was that he orchestrated and proceeded to watch the whole damn thing with that wide, satanic, awful smirk on his face. A tear traipsed my eye as I slowly began to comprehend what was going on to me. I had never even imagined this being possible, yet here I was surrounded by 12 first string football players who seemed to have no issue with raping me. I tried to form a sentence that would convey my feelings, though my mouth seemed to be struggling to spit it out. A word spewed out once in a blue moon, then all of a sudden, I stopped speaking at all. I looked in my now ex-boyfriend’s eyes that were horridly dark, he knew. He knew what I was about to do next. After all, we did date for a year and a half. I took the deepest breathe I could manage and exhaled it slowly as my vocal cords created an ear piercing scream that I was notorious for doing. I then attempted to regain my breath, only to find a strong hand grasped around my neck. I couldn’t breathe and I was slowly dozing off again. Before my mind went completely black, I saw a familiar figure standing in the now blurry doorway; Mike, my best friend was there to end my misery. Hopefully he could get to me before I die of strangulation.
“When I heard he scream my name, I knew exactly who was beckoning for me. I took off as fast as I could up the stairs. I flung the door open to see my best friend there, completely bare with tears in her eyes. She was incoherent, but I didn’t need to hear her say a thing. I’ll never forget the fear in her eyes when I walked in. Until you see your bestfriend frozen with no ability to exude the amount of love she has in her soul, you have no room to say you have seen pain. To the boys who lost their college scholarships and are pissed, thank god someone finally punished you.” He told the news station as the whole world tuned in to hear about the serial rape of a young teenage girl who just happened to be me. Parents and teachers in my neighborhood always told us rich kids that we live in a neighborhood where we didn’t need to worry about getting raped or murdered. They made it seem like the thing we should fear the most was getting fat and poor. I wonder what they’ll tell my best friend’s 14 year old sister after they see this news clip.
You know what sucked the most out of all of that? My brother was the only person who came to the hospital that night. My dad’s slut girlfriend sent me a text saying that she will tell him about what happened once he is done with his big meeting in Japan. As for my mom, she didn’t even bother to answer the police’s phone call. After I was released, my dad flew home to be with me, but he wouldn’t stop telling me that if he didn’t get the investors on board, then it would be all my fault for getting raped. My world, peaceful and perfect had taken a whole 180.
 

The next stop on my journey brings us back to where I started this little memoir, my escape from it all. I don’t know if I’m supposed to put some type of warning on this like, watch out this is the ugly truth about kids who have it all, or something like that. Anyways, my unfortunate series of events led to another string of unfortunate things called drugs. Now before you judge me even more, know that everything thinks that I’m back to where I was before that fall party; which means that I’m back to being queen bee, class valedictorian, world class dancer etc. The only thing people don’t know about is how I smoke a bowl everyday to help temporarily numb the thoughts of that night, plus it makes me laugh at everything. I’m not addicted, I could stop smoking weed or doing shrooms, I just choose not to. You see, people who have gone through what I have usually turn to hard drugs and liquor to numb the pain. That’s how people like me end up dying, but at least I still have the power to stop my actions. I went a couple months without touching my good friend mary jane, but just like the beatles said, “I get by with a little help from my friends.” Speaking of friends, there are maybe all of four of five people who genuinely like me for the person I am. The rest of my fan base, if you will, all just swarm me for the status and the ability to say that they “stuck with me through my darkest times,” even when most of them haven’t even made an effort to learn anything about me. I will never understand why they like me. I’m nothing special. I dance to express myself and I spend a majority of my time trying to maintain the 5.0 that I worked so hard to achieve in all of the nearly impossible AP classes I’m drowning in. I don’t really party anymore, seeming as I get scared that what happened will happen again. Those five kids that I trust are the only people I hang out with regularly; they keep me sane, and so do the drugs.
I hope that maybe one day I will be able to stop the drugs and muster up the courage to expand my boundaries. College is next year. I have already applied to multiple schools. I hope I get in; well I know I will. I just wish that I was able to have the normal freshman experience, you know, the one where your parents beg you to not leave and that feeling of excitement yet nerves that come with leaving your hometown. Christian said that I will forget all about high school once I find myself a good group of friends, but will I? Damn, I need another hit of those funky fungi. I think they’ll tell me how to move on from my sadness; or will they keep me seated on this merry-go-round forever?