ISLAND VOICES
Nothing to look forward to

By Stephanie Loui
A 12-year-old sixth-grader at Hanahauoli School who wrote this essay as part of a D.A.R.E. project

Dear Diary:

10:30 p.m.: Today I turned 21. I am still living in my mom's house. I guess nothing has really changed. Only my age and the amount of alcohol I can consume.

The other day I was smoking a joint, feeling relaxed and slowly leaning into the tantalizing smell as if something were actually there holding me. I watched a couple of preteens doing marijuana. I remember those days — trying to be cool, thinking I would only try it, prove myself, and then get off it. Well, I haven't gotten off it.

My musing was suddenly interrupted when I heard footsteps and turned to see Katz, one of my friends. Both of us hadn't gotten into college and were out drinking together on a daily basis. He was swaying slightly as he walked, a placid, unseeing smile on his face. I could tell he was drunk before he even opened his mouth. "Hey Mandy," he said, swaying dangerously. I shook my head in disgust, his rancid breath hot on my cheek. Yet again, he had mistaken me for his girlfriend, Mandy. I found it pitiful. "Shut it, Katz. Come back when you're sober." He seemed to take a hint and walked away. I shook my head, ridding my mind of his smell and presence.

How could I look down at him? I was the same as him, my breath probably just as bad and my teeth likewise. I guess that's what smoking and drinking did to you — it slowly began to tear you apart, destroyed your very essence. These were the days when I regretted it — the days I wished I had never tried marijuana. The good, however, was that I had never gotten on ice. I had seen people I knew gone crazy by addiction to it. Will I ever reach that point?

Walking home, I was beginning to feel woozy and I had a terrible headache — probably because of all the drinking last night. I couldn't really remember it.

Gotta go, mom's calling me. She sounds angry.

Dear Diary:

11:30 p.m.: I'm back. Yet another fight with mom. She says I've done nothing with my life, that I'm wasting away and killing myself slowly. I think I agree.

Tonight I look back at my life. What happened? My life has already ended and I have just reached adulthood. Where will I be when I'm 40? Will I still be here, hanging with Katz and getting drunk? Will I still be living off mom? I guess I really am killing myself slowly.

Happy birthday to me.