Love you to the stars...

I never liked parties.

I never liked parties. They are always too loud, have an overwhelming scent of weed, and are generally places I choose to avoid. They always give me a headache. As this thought runs through my pounding head, my sister older Lacy is dancing her little heart out to her favorite song. She doesn't truly care about my distaste for parties and always manages to drag me to them. Her bribe this time was the promise of buying us dinner on the way home. I'm not quite sure whose "function" this is. To be honest, I just couldn't say no to free food. After about 15 minutes, I have had enough of the deafening music blaring in my eardrums and the bright strobe lights blasting in my eyes so I hop down from the random counter I'm sitting on and lean down to my sister and say loudly, "Hey, I think I'm going to go sit outside for a second." She looks back at me with a disappointed frown and a red solo cup in hand; which I hope is only filled with soda. After a few seconds, she reluctantly nods her head. "I'll probably still be in the kitchen when you come back, just be safe." She says in a mom-like tone. I nod and smile eager to get out of this place. While being repeatedly elbowed and shoved on my race to the front door, I see things that I could have gone my whole life without seeing. As soon as I'm about to reach the door, a noticeably shorter girl with trashy bleached blond hair spills her bright red drink all over my white tank top and flannel. Are you kidding me? Even though she repeatedly apologizes it takes a lot of self-restraint not to cuss her out, but I don't feel like getting in an altercation, so I say, "It's fine." And finally, bolt out of the house. I walk down the driveway and make a left to the neighbor's curb. I need to smoke. So I rummage through my back pocket and grab my pack of Marlboros then sit on the cold slab of concrete. I can't believe my sister didn't see them in my pocket. Yes, I know I'm a hypocrite for saying I hate the smell of weed and smoke yet I'm smoking a cigarette but it's different in my head. Now I can finally get some time alone and be quiet. I look up at the moon and blow out the deadly smoke as I wonder if angels are real. My grandma always said they were but I'm not sure. Maybe now she's my angel, always looking out for me. Suddenly, I hear a guy's voice.