This was a therapeutic chain of events.

ONE

I pulled my beanie further down my forehead, tucking my neck down further into the collar of my crappy coat in a feeble attempt to create any kind of body heat. My phone battery had died and the cold wind was making my eyes water, not being helped by the stench of vodka and weed ementing off of me. I sat at the stingy bus stop at Port Authority bus terminal, the one I had become so fond of. I was somewhere between eighth and eleventh avenue, but honestly mentally I was somewhere else entirely.

I had just come out of a friends house after a party and was completely smashed off my face, however the piercing bitch of the New York winter wind made sure that I was sober in only a matter of seconds. That's when I found myself here not knowing how I got here, but that had become a regular occurrence for me know, whenever I was in Manhattan for a party or gathering... or 'collect', I would always find myself at the same bus stop just waiting for nothing in particular, just waiting, waiting for the high to fade, so I could figure out what I'm gonna do next. Normally I would crash at a friends place, or sleep under the bridge in the park or just sleep here, on this pathetic excuse for a bench. Anything to avoid going home to my incredibly displeased parents. 

I think people get the impression I'm homeless, or I live in the crack palace, or my parents beat on me, or I have no parents, an orphan maybe. But I assure you I'm not, in actual fact, to most people I have quite a comfortable life; two parents, 2 story apartment in Carnegie Hill, only an 8 minute walk from Central Park, my health, and money to buy food. So I guess you could say I live a pretty good life, I guess. But everyone knows there a two sides to every story. 

Even though I'm sure my parents loved me dearly at some point in my life, that love began to fade, and it was replaced by something much harsher and colder than love could ever be... disappointment. See, disappointment is like a disease, once it begins to spread it's almost inevitable that one can stop it. Their disappointment came in many different forms, some in the forms of verbal communication, similar to the communication you give your parents, however this version was rancid with the breathe of their chagrin demeanour. Some came in the form of the infamous facial expression, with an innocent roll of the eyes or scoff caught in the back of their throat. But for a long time the worst form this disappointment came in, was in no form at all. In the ignorance of a daughter. That was the worst part of it all.

However now I have found ways in which to appreciate their ignorance, albeit lately it has not been so prominent, they began going to therapy in order to talk my issues  through, it sure has made them a lot closer but I never could understand why they didn't take me with them, after all they were talking about my issues. Not that I would want to go to therapy any ways, god I couldn't think of anything worse, sitting with an absolute stranger, and telling them everything about yourself, just so they can answer a question with another question. Since they have begun to talk to me more frequently now, I've kept my distant, staying round friends after ragers or sneaking out of my bedroom window after I knew they'd be asleep. 

I don't really remember where it started going downhill for me really, well I didn't think I was headed down the other end of the slopes, but my parents and all their 'grown up' friends thought the same. I just thought I was a teenager having some fun, but clearly I was born of Satan and must be excoriated quickly. If people are referring to the whole drug thing, I guess it started when I was 15, maybe a little younger. I dunno my memories a little dodge. I just remember the constant nags I got from my parents everyday for not doing this, not doing that, I started rebelling doing everything they said not to do. I wore dark clothes, painted my nails black, died my hair blonde, skipped school, stayed out past curfew. But overall I think I just got... bored, bored of my mediocre lifestyle and repeated patterns. I wanted a release from the constant worry that I wasn't good enough, or smart enough, because honestly fuck that shit, and I found it. The first time I ever smoke weed was glorifying. I felt so exhilarated and free that that was the thing that became my new repeating pattern. Then after came the strong stuff, cocaine, mandy, meth, acid, ecstasy, anything I could get my hands on really, just to get an escape from reality. Everyone has their own little releases from life, for some people it's yoga, for me its popping pills and snorting lines. 

I guess I've been avoiding this for a while, but it didn't help when my brother left, I was super close with my brother and when he left betrayal and boredom started to set in, and now he's got himself a pretty house and a new wife to keep him company leaving me with nothing and no one, I mean I can't blame him really, if I was offered the chance to tour the world with a band I'd probably take it too. But I do, I blame him, for all of it. I need someone to blame it on, it's our natural right as human beings to blame it on someone else. Everyone knows that.

Having said that, all of this led to me being diagnosed with depression, around the same time I was diagnosed with anxiety. So really all in all it's been a smashing year so far. This lead to me being even more reliant on drugs and alcohol, it eased my pain. Made me think straighter. For a while at least. I met some people at school who helped me get through it, they took me to a party one night when I was around 14 or 15 and that's the first memory I have of drugs, someone handed me a rolled joint and told me to take a puff, so I did and it was euphoric. I met up with some more people who didn't go to school and who were older, but when I started going to their parties, the ones from school seemed so unbelievably irrelevant that even some of my friends from school starting following me to ragers and gatherings. I had created a new family who cared about me and who I cared about. In relation to them, my parents just were not up to scratch. 

Jesus Christ my ass is numb, I realised that while I had been sitting here I had completely lost feeling in my ass, toes and face. Wondering what that white stuff was on my coat, I looked up to see it had started snowing. I used to love it when it snowed, snow days with the family, hot coco by the fire. But now there's no family, and all I'm left with is a hollow chest and numb ass. 

I had no idea what the time was, a moment ago I was in no hurry to go anywhere, but with the feeling quickly vanishing from my fingers I decided to remove myself and find some kind of warmth. I dug through my pockets trying to find my phone or some kind of sign to tell me where to go. I pulled out my phone hoping for a single minute of battery to have remained so I could call a friend and crash at there's, but more disappointment piled on to my being as the screen remained black, as much as I did try and will it to turn on. I dug through my pockets again trying to find a quarter or some kind of change so I could use the phone at the bus stop to call someone, but I was skint. Then I had one final attempt left in me and dug through the crappy thin pockets of my coat pulling out a single key, the key to our 'family' apartment. I stared at it for a minute debating whether or not I should just stay on this bench and freeze. Then after a moment, with a groan and a childish stomp of my foot made my way back to the vipers den.