He sat in the corner of the room. The far corner, away from everything. Away from the world, the judgment, and all other things that forced him to quit. He sat there, scratching and panicking, forcing himself not to take any more of the stuff that already cause him and his family a lot of pain. But he loved it, it was his pride and joy. When he was sad, or depressed he would just pull it out, do his stuff and he was happy again, but the world, his parents, even his best friend didn't agree. They told him he had a problem, he needed to fix it. They didn’t understand him, they didn’t understand his stuff. They might have thought it was bad, but it was good. He felt great when he did it.

So now he sat in the cold dark room, wishing, hoping for a sign. Is it good for him, or is it bad? Does he really have a problem? He couldn’t help but think about it, and slowly he got more depressed. Then he quickly thought about the little bit of stuff he had left in his book bag. He smiled as he slowly scooted over and grabbed his bag off the chair that was a little bit farther from him. He opened the small pocket opening and grabbed out the small plastic bag. He smiled when he saw the contents in the bag. With thoughts still slurring through his head, he opened the bag and pour the powdered substance onto the chair besides him. He pulled a razor blade from his pocket and began chopping the white rocks into even smaller pieces. After he crushed it into a reasonable amount he put one finger over one nostril and sniffed the powder with the other. He exhaled heavily after all of it was into his system.

He leaned his head back against the wall and processed all of what was happening to him. He couldn't get his family and friends comments out of his head. The way his friend had treated him, the way his parents had sent them away. As the stuff started to make a change on his body, he quickly faded from his bad thoughts. He started sweating and scratching himself all over again. He didn't need anyone. No friends. No family. Just himself. Just himself and his white stuff.