When the fog settled around my ears, he thought Hawaii was overrated. With good hearted parents loving their ungrateful sons and daughters, we drank up our fill. The potheads had healthy lunches, bought cereal bars, and questioned Jesus as a Jew. just the same. they had fucked their girlfriends, and gotten fucked over. As we popped our pills off our sidewalk and acted hysterical when something slightly dramatic occurred, we felt less in a day, than we were worth. Skinny records, and soft soft music brought us the sleep we craved, but were too stubborn to embrace. Our only disbelief in ourselves, and our dreams, led on to a sinking reality that it couldn't be that much different. We were still us. We were never molested as children, or felt deep isolation within our fragile hearts. We didn't fight any wars, or discover ourselves through medication. Our music, or filler, or shamed cigarettes were all becoming too clear. Minimized, and sifted to minus words with clipart pictures, we tried to tell a story of us. A complete fabrication, but we were proud. Until you ranged me up for a favour, and I really thought we could get better. I drove you to school, but you left me before classes were over.