for that matter. After looking at
Grade E’s ten-watt crank, I want
a toke of my hundred-watt ice.
And I don’t want to share it. It’s
my birthday. I don’t have to share,
do I? Hey, it is my birthday. At
last, today, I’m the big one-
eight, so why don’t I feel any
different? Because I’m still
treading quicksand, that’s why.
Okay, I need to get high, totally
out-of-my-head wasted, so I
don’t keep thinking about
the same old shit, only
compounded by all that’s
going on around here, not
to mention hearing about
Adam and having Brendan forced
down my throat [not for real, only
figuratively], all in the space
of twelve hours. Talk about
mega déjà vu, of the not nice
type. Happy fucking birthday
to me. Come on. Let’s celebrate!
Lucky me, I’m [not even close]
almost alone in the house. Mom
ran to the store, Scott ran to
pick up Jake from his [girl-]
friend’s house, and Leigh took
Hunter for a stroller walk around