I took a long drag from the cigarette and watched as the breathy smoke swirled and dissipated into the black. The girl beside me was smoking menthol's, inhaling shallowly and looking like she just wanted it to be over. She was not meant to be a smoker. Maybe she was trying to look cool? She looked like an idiot. I'm sure she also had some cherry cigars in her handbag. Pathetic. You shouldn't have to be anything but yourself- unfortunately that lesson seems to be lost on most teenagers. It seemed like every teenage girl I ran into these days was trying to be chic by smoking cigars. I'm sure that cigarette holders will be the next toxic trend.

Me, well, I hate the smell of the cigarettes to be honest, that's why I've never smoked in any of my dorm rooms, and why I try and quit every other week. But something always happens...

I stopped taking the Xanax so smoking is the only vice I have left.

What do the fucking doctor's know anyway? I've been diagnosed with every form of depression and anxiety from here to high hell. At one point I was on 6 different medications but I put a stop to that. I'm emancipated now so I finally have full say over what goes in my fucking body. I checked into a rehab to go off all the meds after I had a few hallucinations ... but that's not really the point of the rant.

The point is that the girl next to me out here is clearly not deriving anything positive from her menthol induced haze so I just don't get the fucking point. I hope not all the bitches at this school are as dumb as her. I haven't formally met anyone here yet so I don't really know what to expect. I know I should have socialized, but I got a private room for solitude, not so that I could throw parties like my neighbour seems to be inclined to do.

My private room has meant virtual isolation for the last three days. The closest to human interaction I've had besides smoking silently with menthol girl was pounding on the wall to tell my sex crazed neighbour to fuck her boyfriend a bit quieter.

Okay, I was a little jealous of that one. I've had sex with two people in my lifetime, and both times it was a disappointment. I've always wondered if it was the meds or just me. Maybe I'm broken there too?

My neighbour was clearly not disappointed.

I wanted to have sex, I did, but it was never good for me. Since I didn't feel compelled to hide that fact from the men, well boys, I had been with it had meant the end of my relationships with both of those idiots.

But this was a new school and a new day. It was my senior year of high school and then I could get out of this elitist hell hole and make my way through college where the actual intellectual learning takes place. I wouldn't have even come here if my grandmother hadn't asked me to- something about a family tradition and since I was the last of the Swan's ...blah, blah, etc. I only need six more classes and I could have easily taken them all online so this is my last favour for her.

This is a fresh start for me though because I don't really know anyone here and while people know of me here, they don't really know me. I almost start fresh this time.

A fresh start.

Right.

People go on and on about fresh starts, like it would be so amazing to just be able to restart your life.

But just because you're starting fresh doesn't mean that you don't remember all the shit that happened before. And it certainly doesn't mean that it didn't happen to you and fuck you up in ways that you would rather forget about.

It doesn't mean that you don't have nightmares and think about horrible fucked up things happening to other people just so that you're not the only one feeling this pain. Just so there's a specific reason to cry this time, even if the reason is only good for a day or two.

Well, there's no use crying over spilled milk, right? What's done is done and can't be undone. But if I was smarter and more determined I think I would spend my time inventing a time machine so that I could go back and try to salvage some of myself, the little broken off pieces of my soul - and maybe a few brain cells.

I choose to come here for my fresh start because ... well, I don't really know. I did promise my grandma and this school in Washington is close enough to Canada that if I really wanted to I could make a run for it.

I probably wouldn't though, it's not like anyone would chase me.

But this is good. I can focus on me and being me. Less classes means more time to focus on not ending up back in rehab or worse ... like Renee.

I put my cigarette out on the underside of my shoe and threw the butt in the trash. No sense in littering like menthol girl. If I ever got as tacky and clichéd as her I would probably off myself.

Well, maybe that's not true. Sometimes I wish I could be satisfied with following the crowd and being a lemming like her. I'm not saying I'm some grand individual or something like that. People who claim to be individual are usually full of shit. I've shopped at the gap, I've danced obnoxiously to Britney Spears, and I've even got a facebook account. I'm just not good at stifling my likes and dislikes to suit the crowd. I wish I was capable of being a mindless Barbie- but I've tried that and it always ends in more meds.

I wish I knew what was going to happen. I wish I could see my future so I could be prepared for it.

But even if I could, I'm sure I'd never be prepared anyway.

That's the way life works. It always comes back to bite you in the ass.