Choking on Diamonds

Nine

"There is nothing more depressing than sitting in an abandoned parking lot at 2am."

"You didn't have to come with me," Will sing-songed as he leaned down to the hood of the car. I sat on the cool pavement, the broken asphalt flush against my legs. The cold February air pricked at my black jeans, goosebumps on my neck as my ass started to go numb from leaning against a lamp post at the wrong angle. Syd was laying on the ground, her limbs sprawled out as her juul rested between her lips, ready for her next inhale.

I watched carefully as he covered in right nostril, the harsh sound of his inhale reaching my ears before I watched him stand up and while his nose while blinking rapidly for a few seconds. "Whew. God fucking damn, it been a while."

"You're brother just got out of rehab and you're snorting lines of cocaine in a parking lot in the middle of the night. Sounds completely logical."

"I'm not my fucking brother," Will seemed to snarl almost out of character. Hunter looked down from where he was zoning out up at the stars against the wheel of the Escalade, watching Will run his hand through his jet black hair. "Fuck this is so much better than molly. It just get you going. It feels like my nerves are just sparking and crackling. You won't understand until you try it, man."

"I'm not doing cocaine."

"Oh no, I know. I don't want you too, I'm just saying."

"What ever you say will," I drawled lazily, watching him pace back and forth before pooping down next to hunter against the side of the car. Nothing but the sound of the breath leaving Syd's lips filled the air, the low white light from her juul catching my eyes. As sad as it was that we were in the middle of no where on a Saturday night, I quite liked the peace and quiet. Something about the whole idea of people truly alone with your friends made me happy. This might sound completely cliché or nonsensical but everyone had a niche they wanted to be. There was a stereotype in their mind about what situations fit what personality or aesthetic. For all of the shit in my life, those type of moment made me feel like I belonged. It felt right. Truth be told, I felt like a bad ass even if I was just a complicated, high teenager with depressed friends. It was pathetic but empowering at the same time.

Every kid who's ever been where I have thinks they're more mature for their age. They think they are adults. I was just now starting to realize that turmoil doesn't mean adult. My sister has the responsibilities of an adult but she's a fucking child. Will and Syd the the addictions of AA members and they were helpless teens. I wasn't some strong woman, I was a pissy high schooler. Whenever I felt bad ass or grown, that's when I always realized that only teens ever have my problems. The drama, the lying, the irresponsibility.

Struggle didn't teach strength or maturity, it taught survival and sometimes that was the exact opposite of responsible. Self harm, irrational behavior, violence, drugs, sex; all common reactions that helped survival. 'Adult' was just a convoluted concept that children had, pushing them to fit a mold at a nine to five. At the end of the day I was a child but if there is one thing I've learned, it's that being a child has nothing to do with strength or survival.

Perseverance was the only goal.

"Do you ever feel like a song?" Will suddenly asked, pulling me out of my nonsensical train of sober thought. My pupils flickered to him as he watched me across from him. Cocaine had an odd effect on people. It was a drug that hyped you up, yet at the same time it always appeared to calm people down at first. It was like the relief of chemicals in system almost number the raw effect for a few minutes. I guess to an addict it did calm their nerves, not that that was Will's situation.

"Yeah," Syd replied without a second thought. "And I have a song for almost everyone I know." She had a musical mind and Syd was a brilliant artist. Her creativity was amazing and her voice somehow a tear above that but something about matching a person to a song seemed entirely too cliche. "Hunter is Painting in Paris, Cameron is Make me Fade, and Ki is with out a doubt Put It On Me."