Chapter Five - Eric

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Today sucked literal cock. Momma was on me like the Spanish Inquisition, because she noticed my grades have been slipping up. I'm hiding from myself and the questions, not to mention that damn algebra two test I got tomorrow. I built this tree house when I was twelve, and my parents still are clueless. I hide my weed, about fifteen pounds of incense, a sleeping bag, and a shitton of chips. It's raining. I stick the filter in the paper. Purple Haze today, indica. I roll and light. I stick it in my trap, and light a sandalwood. My dad may be the whitest bitchass on the planet, but growing up in inner city Houston, he can sniff out ganja like a mother fucking bloodhound. I take a hit, and pass it to my left. Fuck. I'm alone. I pick up the j, and turn to the little slat window. The sky is falling, and I want to cry. It's so beautiful, and I wish I could be like that. I Irish waterfall and blow a ring. I ain't high yet, but I can feel it bubbling up inside. I watch the sandalwood burn. And it hits me back. I feel like flying and drowning at the same time, and I want it to happen. After feeling empty for weeks, this really helps. I open my phone, and play some music. Nirvana. Ugly Bumpkins. Beck. Dre. Em. 2pac. Sublime. Tosh. Marley. Just chill, to not feel is a good feeling for once.

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