Each year my parents and I would drive down to some lake on the near the coast of England and spend a few weeks in a cottage that overlooked a bunch of trees and a big body of water. I never really understood why my parents loved coming down here. Maybe it was the fact that they could get away from the ever over crowded London, or the stress of running their own dentistry office, but whatever it was, pissed me off and being the self centered teenage that I was, never understood why we had to drive for two days down to isolation from the rest of the world.

My parents had been gone for an hour and they wouldn't be coming back for a few more. They had decided to spend the night at a B&B 2 hours away and go on some canoeing trip. I myself was sitting on a wooden chair staring at the lake, cigarette in one hand while the other was clutching my jacket around me. It was rather, I'm not sure I can find the right word to use, surreal here. It was quiet and cool, no sun and the mountains in the backsplash looked rather forbidding. It was like Hogwarts, without the mindless idiots and the rules. I brought the cigarette up to my lips but then thought better of it. I could try blaming my habit of smoking on emotional stress, or that I was depressed but in the end I was most likely subconsciously trying to fit in and trying to look cool. I hate my subconscious; it screws me over all the time. I sat in that cold slightly damp chair wrapped up in a flimsy sweater staring at that cigarette for the longest time debating whether I should inhale some of that lethal smoke or to just stump it out. The cigarette was like a metaphor of my life, should I keep trying and try to bypass these obstacles that were mercilessly thrown in my way, or should I take my life? It felt so fucking gratifying to know that my life was in the hands of, well, myself, I could kill myself at any moment. Jesus Christ I am a psycho. I couldn't stand the temptation anymore, I lifted that little cancer stick to my chapped lips and inhaled over and over again, power smoking that damned cigarette until I smoked past the line and snubbed it out against the wooden pole attached to the porch. Temptation, what a horrible curse bestowed upon mankind. It was temptation that brought me to my misery these past months. My thirst for knowledge, romance, adventure, were all shortly lived out. Books were just temporary relief, who really cared if I knew how many times people blinked in an hour, or how many witches faked their death while being burned on the stake? It wasn't going to help me later on in life, unless I was on some pathetic game show on T.V. Sometimes after spending all night in that dreary library I wanted to curl up on my bed and cry, just let my retching sobs escape my ribcage that couldn't hold them in anymore. If people thought I was a know it all bookworm I really didn't care, let them think that, I wasn't going to change for them.

I always felt that I needed a song to be playing in the background, like the soundtrack of my life. My preferred choice as of right now would have to be "Across the Universe "by Fiona Apple. It was slightly depressing but easy listening and calming, and while it seemed so sad and made me want to cry it invoked a slightly creative mood in me. I pulled my wand from my jacket and murmured a spell and immediately following my woods Across the Universe began lightly playing all around me. This song always made me feel the need to get high, unfortunately I didn't have any trees left and I wasn't about to smoke the resign on my glass pipe. I named my friend Vi's glass pipe Picasso because it was so colorful and artsy, I had yet to name mine. Vi always told anyone who would listen that she corrupted me, it always pissed me off to hear that, I hated letting some one have the benefit of changing me.

I think I was a wolf in my previous life; every time someone pissed me off I had a need to bite someone. Weird.