So i've discovered a book and authour. The book the Rum Diary. The authour Hunter S Thompson. It's an interesting book about nothing and everything all at the same time. Yeah, it's cliche so sue me its good. The book amazing. It's about the time Paul Kemp spends in a rum enduced drunken haze in San Juan, Puerto Rico. I think everyone should read it.

My name’s Brody. I’m your typical cynical angst ridden punk. I listen to NOFX, Rancid, The Distillers, Social Distortion, Minor Threat; all your basic angry punk bands. I’ve lost all faith in today’s youth. As for my political views, let’s just say I think Bush will be the downfall of the U.S and keep it at that. Like all typical angry punks I’m a drug addict. My drug of choice: vodka, T3’s and cigarettes. People think it’s dangerous to chase T3’s with vodka but if you take 2 T3’s and chase it with no more then 4 shots you should be fine.
People look down on me because I’m a pain killer junkie. They think they’re better then me because they’re “stable”. Please, there’s no such thing as stable we’re all junkies of some kind. Whether its gossip, soap operas, junk food, alcohol, cigarettes, pot, or heroine we’ve all got an addiction. Who gets to decide which addictions are worse than others? Am I worse than someone who gossips simply because my addiction is illegal? I think not, at least my addiction is only harmful to myself.
I always expected my addiction to kill me. I figured one day I’d get really depressed or angry and over dose. I never thought I’d die on the side of the road in a pool of blood. But here I am, middle of the road, in a smashed up car bleeding to death. I’m trying to figure out what happened and how I got here. This is what I have so far:
Casper, Jonnie, Cash and I decided to go to one of Ana’s parties. Ana is famous for her parties. She lives in a huge house in the middle of nowhere. Her parents have a never ending supply of alcohol which Ana is allowed to help herself to whenever she wants. She’s got one of the most sophisticated stereo systems money can buy and no neighbours to call the cops when the party gets to rowdy.
Tonight’s party was no different from any other at her house. The music was too loud to hear yourself think and the air was thick with cigarette smoke. In various rooms all over the house people were getting stoned and having sex. For a while I sat on a couch smoking a cigarette observing everything that was going on. I watched Casper throw up all over the brown beer stained carpet. I watched Ana struggling to get some college guys to leave (the only rule Ana had for her parties was no college guys, she didn’t trust them and I didn’t blame her). I could hear Jonnie having sex with some guy through the wall behind me. I sat there for what seemed a life time just listening to moaning and panting and banging. The banging was driving me nuts. She was banging so hard on the wall that a picture of a four year old Ana fell off the wall on to the couch. As I sat there looking at the picture of Ana, so innocent before she’d been corrupted by adolescence, I wondered was it worth it? Were orgasms really worth losing your self respect for? I guess Jonnie thought they were. Jonnie was known for being a slut. She liked to think that she had this control over guys. She thought she was hot and that guys couldn’t help but fall in love with her. In truth, it was the guys who had the power. They were the ones that controlled whether or not she got the sex she seemed to constantly need.
After awhile Cash and I got bored so we decided to leave, we drove around aimlessly for about an hour. I’d never noticed how attractive Cash was before. I guess that’s because I always felt inferior to him. His parents were divorced, his step dad beat him, his grades sucked, and his girlfriend cheated on him and yet he still refused to give in to the quick fix craze which seemed to be sweeping the nation. He didn’t smoke or drink, he didn’t do drugs, prescription or otherwise. Every time I was alone talking to him I got confused. He disproved everything I thought I knew about life and that scared me. Tonight I realized just how backwards some of my idiosyncrasies were. I poured my soul out to him. I couldn’t help it, I just exploded. Tears poured down my cheeks freely as if they were rain. Cash and I had never been that close but he seemed to understand where I was coming from. We talked for what seemed like hours. Then it happened he looked at me and into my eyes. It was like one of those looks in the movies where two people realize they’re in love. Then I heard the honk of a horn, saw a flash of light and now I’m here.
I guess the pressure had finally gotten to Cash because he had abandoned his beliefs and had a couple beers at the party. I didn’t know that or I wouldn’t have let him drive.
I’m in the ambulance now. I heard a paramedic say that Cash is going to be fine, I’m so relieved. Surprisingly enough I'm not scared of dieing. I’m imagining what people are going to say at my funeral. They’ll probably say my death was tragic and that I was too young to die but that’s not the truth. The truth is my life was tragic. I never had any goals; all I ever did was watch movies, smoke, drink and get stoned. My death isn’t unfortunate; it’s going to save me from a life of cold nights spent in the gutter. I just hope someone will learn from me and not fall for the “life’s a bitch and then you die” attitude shared most suburban teenagers.
Cash is awake. “Don’t let my death be meaningless,” I beg him as I slip away into the darkness.