Layla
I was the one who cried in the 3rd grade went the girl scout troup spent a weekend away from our family camping. I was the one who broke down infront of my parents whenever I frogot my homework in shcool. I was the one who confessed my pure hatred towards myself to my family in the 4th grade.
I am now the one who shows no emotion at all to my family. I am now the one who fails her tests and doesn't care. I am the one who bottles everything up and expresses the littlest bit, if anything at all, about anything I'm feeling.
Things change. (As if that isn't eveident.)
Up until Sophmore year, I had goals set in my life, and the ultamite, to get into Comlumbia University on the otherside of the country.
In the summer of Sphmore year going into Junior, I craved rebellion. I realized how poorly I was spending my teenage years, doing my homework instantly, studying, I wasn't living how I read about in my books.
I went to my first Rage the second day of summer. There was the first time I got hiigh, the first time I had ever ventured off into my own fantasies. I was so stupid, thinking I could control my newly developing party attidtude.
It wasn't long until things spiraled out into control enough for my mom and step-dad to notice. Junior year, my grades started to slip. The school put me in counciling programs, nothing seemed to work, I just kept growing more and more rebellious and drinking even more.
I told myself not to worry, I was just living, and this is how all the cool teenagers do, and they seem fine anyway. I'm just having more fun than I used to.
But nearing the end of Junior year, I did something that pushed everyone off the edge, even myself.
That event caused me to stay sober for a little while. At that point, it was evident I had an addiction, and I needed help.
I really needed help.
