My story is about a young boy genius, who was teased in his early years of high school (not to mention ignored all through elementary school), and selfishly turned to cocaine to cure his depression. The title of the story is ‘Misery Loves Cocaine’, and the boy’s name is Natsu Chou Kisu, which in Japanese mean Summer Butterfly Kiss. Here it goes, it’s very long:::
“I went into that bathroom, that same, precious bathroom I always go in. No one was there: Most students at high school usually left this horrible place to eat their ‘fatty foods’ and smoke their ‘death sticks’ at lunch time. Although this school was the reason for my insanity, it was also the only place I could feel anywhere close to sane. I walked on the stained, tiled flooring, and I stopped in front of a stall that read ‘out of order’. Of course it was ‘out of order’, it was the drug house: A little stall of heaven, where teenagers like I could feel at peace with their selves and the world. I locked myself up tight in that cozy little stall, and dropped my book bag to the ground. Looking around the stall, you could definitely see that this was MY piece of heaven, and I had claimed it well. Strange, tripped out drawings of butterflies were all of the walls and the floor, done with markers, nail polish, and a few done with facepaint from Halloween.
I knelt down on the dirty ground, and reached into my bag. When I pulled out my hand again, I held a piece of paper, and a small plastic bag filled with my powder of joy: Cocaine. I put the paper on the closed toilet seat and poured the white dust carefully onto it, making sure to get it in as perfect of a line as possible. When I had it just the way I wanted it, I took out my own, personal, modified snorting device, and looked at the cocaine with hungry eyes. Sure, this high came with a price, but it was a small amount to pay for ten minutes floating high in the sky. With not even a slight pause, I snorted up the cocaine off of the paper, trying as hard as I could to not miss even a small particle of it.
After a little while, I could start feeling it kick in. It felt to me like rain, pouring off my skin. I forgot about how horrible my life was, if only for a few minutes, leaning back against the walls, drawing even more butterflies all over the infected walls. The powered corrupted my brain, and I leaned my head back, closing my eyes. I stayed perfectly still, drinking in each little drop of happiness my addiction brought to me. Every time I snorted my stash, I felt like a butterfly myself: Slowly drifting, too stupid to know my fate, and the fate of the world. Floating on and on, without a care in the world… until, of course, the crash. When I finally burned out, I felt like I was that same butterfly, only mounted up on the wall, dead.
I felt trapped when I looked at my watch, noticing there was only about twenty minutes left before this bathroom because inhabited with many people. I growled loudly to no one and nothing in particular, and closed my bag. I left my stall, closing it behind me, and threw my bag onto the line of silver sinks. My reflection in the sinks was distorted, and made me look like some kind of monster. Really, I was, wasn’t I? I was a cocaine addict. That’s as horrible of a monster as I’d ever get. A pathetic, fifteen year old cocaine addict in the twelfth year. But oh god, what a high.”
Note, I did all of this from just research, never actually even CONSIDERING snorting ANYTHING before. I don’t like drugs, I took enough pills in my childhood for the rest of my life, thank you.
I’m actually a random sixteen year old >< I've been writing since I was eight though. It's set in a high school in North Dakota. Natsu was born in Japan, but moved to America when he was eleven. Oh yes, Bleeding Pen, thank you. It's became, not because.