How to Dissasociate, part 1: Teen Pot Slut

Things are not going so good right now. When you hang out, you sense that you are not really human, rather, you are meat with a face. You assume the only role available to girls who skip school, have a brain and listen to rock music: Teen Pot-Slut it is for you! This is, of course, not your prime life choice, but at least you can ignore the pain of everything else this way.

You go to Jay's house or Nikke's house or whoever's house regularly to smoke pot, that is what you do. You absorb jungle music, meet boys there, smoke pot, and make out with or fuck somebody. It's not totally random, there is a specific group of boys to choose from, and you do make an assessment of their personalities before freaking with any of them, but it was still pretty real.

For most of your day, nothing happens to indicate that you have a personality. Your revenge scheme, though healing for you, alienated most of your friends. You meet a boy who dropped out of school to make web pages. He has not gotten farther than his job at the video store, but you decide that he will make a fine pillar of salt for your heart. You date, he smokes pot and you stare ahead while making out. He wants you to bear children, but you decide that it is cruel to bring more people into this world.

Your mom gets suspicious because you sleep all the damn time and you are bitchy a lot. Parents really don't get it, or they'd help before it was too late. She ends up sending you off to therapy at some god-awful hour of the morning.

To try to use your dulled wits to wiggle your way out of this, try poetry.
To see if things can actually get worse, fuck this guy.
To suck it up and just get a job like everyone else does. [coming]