Fourth chapter, following the lives of Emma & Nolan, as well as the effects of marijuana on teenagers.

It was a long night.

But here I am, comfortable in my own bed,

which I don’t remember crawling in last night.

I do however remember a lot of my night.

I’m glad this wasn’t one of those

crazy “what the hell did I do last night”

drugs that I’ve heard so much about.

I feel great, well rested, & pretty confident.

Im not completely sure that the confidence

came from the green though.

I feel confident in my feelings for Nolan.

& I’m started to feel better about Nolan’s

feelings for me as well.

Once we were well baked we all sat

on the couch watching the game.

I wasn’t watching the game myself,

I was looking at the long mirror

on the wall beside the TV.

Looking at the reflection of myself.

Not only my reflection, but our reflection.

Nolan had moved himself even closer

to me, draping his arm over my shoulder.

I was so comfortable, so happy.

I had never felt so at peace.

So complete.

So high.

Get out of bed Em

Yeah, yeah. I hear you.

That would be my brain;

Reminding me to get out of

bed & get myself to school.

But getting up sounds like a 

good idea to me. So I got myself 

up & headed to the bathroom.

Bathrooms usually play an 

important part of the whole

“getting ready” routine.

For girls anyway, who

mainly pay focus to whatever

it is they want to see in the mirror.

I guess I’m not really one of those 

girls. I only put on a little extra.

I’m happy with what I’ve got.

I spent a little extra time laying

in bed, so I don’t really 

have time for a shower.

Washed my face, brushed my hair,

brushed my teeth, put on mascara.

All of that, & I’m not even

out of the bathroom yet.

Eyelashes still wet

while I walk down the stairs,

fanning at my face.

Trying to dry the only bit of 

makeup that I find necessary.

Good morning sunshine.

Dad said smiling behind his coffee.

All men need their coffee,

he told me that once.

“Morning.” I looked around,

sadly finding Laurin on the couch.

“Dad.. why is she here already?”

It’s 7:30 in the morning, holy shit.

Still here, actually. I need to talk

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Comments (1)
  • owentr on Dec 12, 2009

    Good story. Thanks for sharing.

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