My Analysis of Her

There's one thing to regret the past and face forward, hard with changes of decision, heart and perspective. But then there's another option where one's pride of the past infiltrates their ability to correct their mistakes, in result this one person pretends all is well, when of course, nothing has been erased. Now, I love this girl dearly and just like everybody else in this world including myself, she isn't perfect, I know, but just like many others she's a proud bitch* when it comes to what she's "accomplished". Her many crazy stories of going to Kanye West, Ratatat and Girl Talk concerts tripping on acid, and smoking pot with strange homeless men have , have, yes, provided distastefully delicious insight but-- wait a minute-- are fucking dangerous and downright bat shit. There's no one more I dislike in this world, besides those inside the workings of the Bush administration, gangsters, boneless murders and clowns, than a name-dropper or in this case an event-dropper. I mean when you're walking down the road with her mother/my aunt whom I know not particularly well, just a few strides behind, why would you think now is the best time to display such information? Such information being; smoking pot with a completely homeless and completely random stranger. Awesome. Wow, I want be just like you (as bitterly sarcastic as I can possibly muster). So she claims to have given partying as much as she used to, meaning she stopped abusing ADD medications. She claims to have gotten back on her school work and claims to have changes everything, except for her addiction to cigarettes. She still smokes them as many chances as she can get. Maybe it's her way of getting away from the family, maybe she hates us. I don't want to sound cocky or self-absorbed, but I don't really think that's the case. My dad thinks it's just a phase, but a phase that slowly kills herself? When she finally showed her mother her wrists from eighth grade, they both cried, as I'm sure she had been crying after every pressing drag over her angelic skin. How's is this any different, besides the fact that we're all watching her or turning our heads as she walks behind the house or shed to light up another? How is it any different? Instead of a blade, nicotine, tar and all those other toxins a 2 millisecond google search can define. Her kid brother still repeats everything she says. Even if it isn't a joke. He still attempts to be as cool as she. Her dad who misses her after a separation of a max of ten hours, and who lights up every time his sparkling daughter enters his realm. Her mom who gets the ignored while she lights up, though who probably flinches or whose essence of life ebbs away just a single pulsation each time her child's lighter sparks. I'm going to be predictable and say that no one deserves such despicable treatment. No matter how good a gift you gave them each on Christmas; no matter how well you tidied your room that Saturday; no matter how hard you worked on your definitions essay; no matter any mild chore or routine you've built in to your schedule to accomidate their domestic needs. Nothing is good enough to counteract such suicide.