@manslavghter ; cont’d
Someone had suggested it a while back, and today was the day she actually felt shitty enough about herself to actually give it a chance—-a meeting, surrounded by other people who felt just as shitty about themselves. She was only there for maybe an hour before calling it quits, leaving with a woman who seemed to want to be there as much as she did. Now they were sitting on her ratty old couch littered with cigarette burns in her dim-lit apartment, marijuana smoke filling the room. A chilled bottle of whiskey from the freezer now sat on the coffee table before them, as well as the baggy of coke she just scored from her usual dealer. As Amanda passed her bong back over, she herself took another hit before setting it down on the floor beside her—her body was relaxed, a smile tugging at her lips for no other reason than just the effect of the pot.
“Yep—-this is it,” she responded, scooting forward on the edge of her seat to separate a few lines of the white powder with an old Wal-Mart gift card, “for people like us anyway. You want one a’ these?” She asked, gesturing to the substance on the surface of her table and offering a straw that she cut in half.
