we used to

We used to sneak into the woods to smoke pot in hiding. We were so desperate to get high. One joint, passed all around, one would always giggle more than the others.

We'd emerge with new vision. Brighter trees, neon grass, and large suspicious eyes on everyone.

We used to wear giant headphones and become one with the music.

We used to get together, a huge group of us every weekend. Some of us barely knew each other, because all we ever did was drink. Rebellion always seemed more interesting than a real conversation.

We used to sit on the bus, moving slowly through East Hastings, and see lives much darker than ours. Prostitutes with veins up their legs, boney shoulders and short skirts. A cop arresting a man with cocaine. A man sneaking into the alley with a needle.

We used to lie on my balcony smeared with tanning oil, and feel the sun sink into our skin.

We used to apply layers of make-up, then scrounge up any alcohol possible, and try and be cool for the parties.

I used to think about suicide on a daily basis. And I would sit in the rain, just to feel the world get colder.

I have no regrets. I used to laugh pretty damn hard in those days as well.

I just used to be so confused.