As I swallow, a chill races up my spine, and my crisp vision goes lax. Moments or hours later, can you ever be sure? I feel the euphoric rush embrace my nervous system as I swallow again. The fourth time. With every pretty little pill and every pretty little shot I rebel a pretty little bit more. The vodka goes down until I forget what vodka is. Risking my life for a short few hours of crazy thrill. Suffocating my intoxicated by the thrill of doing it, not the substances themselves, I drag myself out of this apartment and onto the street. There's just something about hangin out with the wicked kids.
