“Oh lube? For your little four-inch cock… You don’t need lube, it’s not like she’s some dried up old lady, these girls are good to go!” —Superbad

I’ve been reluctant to start my third step. The God thing is irritating me. I know exactly what my higher power is, but I just don’t want to do it. I know I have to though.

My dick hurts. I wonder how Abigail is doing. You think her boyfriend can tell someone else is fucking his girl? I think that’s why I like Abigail—she has a boyfriend. When I fuck her I think, “Yeah, your boyfriend doesn’t fuck you like this huh you little slut? Take that fucking dick. Take that dick you cheating whore, you stupid dumb bitch, take dick, yeah, you like that, you fucking nasty cunt.” It turns me on that she’s a cheater.

I wanna fuck Sarah. She’s skinnier but then again Abigail’s got that Range Rover.

I’m at a school pep rally; stuff like this makes me feel weird. These kids really put a lot of time and effort into this shit, like they painted shit and made signs and all this other gay shit, like do they call each other on the phone and are like:

“Hey man, wanna come over and make pom-poms in my garage?”

“Fuck yeah, bro!”

I guess I wish I cared about anything that much.

October 12th, 2008

6:11 pm

It’s Sunday, it's drizzling outside, the sun is still out. I’m sitting in the plaza by my high school, in my car, listening to music. 

Three days with no meeting.

Hmmm. How do I start this?

Friday night, I went to Abigail’s friend Natasha’s house. She lives in a beautiful apartment in North Miami. The elevator goes directly to her apartment. The whole floor is for her. I went out on the balcony and looked at the bay, the city lights, the cool breeze from the ocean — it was nice. I haven’t seen Natasha since summer. I met her a long time ago when I first fucked Abigail when we were both in treatment together. Natasha is getting high again, she’s doing blues. Her eyes are sunken in, brown dark circles below them, pale skin. She’s irritable, sweaty, in tiny cut-off jean shorts. She turns 17 this Wednesday, dropping out of school, her parents give her money for Roxys. It’s crazy how rich she is and how junked out she is at the same time. I can tell when someone has a really bad habit or just a normal one. You don’t get addicted to Roxys right away, you gotta do them a lot to really get strung out. 

This bitch was fucking strung out. 

Abigail did three Roxys on the coffee table when we walked in. There was some loser kid there who just got outta detox, some rich faggot kid. He was like 20 years old wearing an Ed Hardy shirt. He was telling us how he just got out of detox but he was obviously high as fuck, too. It was just a Blues Clues fiesta. They were smoking blues in the bathroom, snorting them on the balcony, nodding out with cigarettes in their hands.

Abigail started giving me a massage on the couch, and I end up fucking her in the bathroom. I pick her up, put her up on the sink, wrap her legs around me, put her panties to the side. Unbutton my jeans, start rubbing my dick on her click, I put on spit on the tip of my cock and begin to plow, pulling her tits out while I fuck her. Choking her with her right hand until her face goes red. I bend her over and impale back and forth from behind as hard as I can, spanking her ass and pulling her hair back, screaming, “Yeah you like that you fucking slut? You like getting fucked bent over you fucking slut? Take that fucking dick.” I look at her face in the mirror and she’s biting her lip and moaning and I mush her head into the mirror and spit on her. I fuck her hard and deep, I look at myself in the mirror, my arms are getting bigger. She says it hurts so I grab the base of my dick while I rapidly fuck her with just the first half of my dick. I start fucking her fast then pull out and jerk off on her panties/pubic area. We walk out the bathroom, I know everyone heard me and I’m glad they did.

The blues and seeing people fucked up made me feel uncomfortable. We were supposed to go back to her place, and I told her I’d follow her home in my car, but when we hit US1, I dipped out and hit a right instead of left. I text her and tell her I can’t hang out with people getting high. That kid had a whole bottle right there, such easy prey. I’m clean but there’s still that thing inside of me that just wants to stick him in the face, take the pills and run, just based on principle. 

Abigail doesn’t know the using me. I don’t use like them. They do blues and all hang out and listen to music. I don’t do that shit, I would beat that kid’s ass and rob the whole fucking house, there wouldn’t be a fucking thing left.