You sink further into depression, you're just SOOOOO tormented and misunderstood. Or more likely you're a little drama queen that's…

Hey, maybe THAT'S your problem! YOU KNOW what we're talking about!

You snap out of your self-pity for a minute and think really hard of WHY you don't fit in with everyone else, perhaps if you figure it out then maybe that can be the first steps to getting better.

You what's the point? It's all so fucking futile anyway...

Oh geez you really are hopeless aren't you?

You sink even further into depression. You REALLY don't do anything anymore. Your grades drop, people don't want to be anywhere near you in any way due to the fact that you give off such an aura of bleakness that other people get miserable just being near you. Well that, and the fact that your hygiene habits have become that of a third world street beggar dying of leprosy. Your parents at this point are getting fed up with the moping act and don't help matters any by screaming at your practically comatose body 24/7.

"UGH! It smells like shit from a dead dog's ass up in this motherfucker!" your Mom exclaims holding her nose.
"Goddamnit boy, get your ASS up! This shit's getting' old! Boy! I told you…ah fuck it, I'm not gonna even waste my time beating you, you're a disappointment anyway! Go ahead and rot for all I care. Just leave the damn door closed." Your Dad says before both of your parents leave in disgust.

They don't love you. Nobody does. You wish you could escape. Maybe they'd ALL be sorry once you're gone…

You escape... Temporarily

You're too chicken shit to actually commit suicide so you decide you need to escape from your sorry existence in a more "chemical" way, namely drugs.

Unfortunately you're such a damn loser that you're completely clueless to who's selling the shit in school, or even your suburb. Unless you want to go down to DA HOOD, even you know that where ALL the drugs come from. Of course there are other options like household inhalants.

It's a big wide world out there just waiting for you to find something to get fucked up on!

You go buy some drugs in Da Hood

Surprisingly you manage to snap out of your perpetual funk, in order to buy drugs. Maybe they ARE the answer!

Your parents are so surprised to see you leave your room, let alone the house that they don't even question where you're going, they're just happy you're going. It gives your Mom some time to fumigate your room and your Dad to fuck her doggy style on your bed.

Anyway, you make your way down to Da Hood. You know you've arrived when you see an increase in urban blight and a bunch of black people giving you dirty looks. Speaking of which you're still fucking clueless to where you're supposed to get some drugs so you just ask a group of black people hanging around a basketball court. They're all bigger than you and definitely meaner and tougher.

"Drugs? Whachu' talkin' 'bout white mothafucka? You some fuckin' narc or sum shit?"
"No, I just…"
"He gotta be workin' fo' the five-O! This cracka mothafucka would have ta be crazy walkin' down here by hisself!"
"No, I got money for drugs! See?" you stupidly say pulling out your allowance money.

The instant you do this, the homeboys' eyes light up and then you're bum rushed. You first see a fist with tons of bling on it smashing into your face and then you're looking up at several shoes frog stomp it into mush as another pair of hands goes through your pockets. Finally one of them throws a basketball at your bloody head and calls you a dumb ass white boy as you lie on the court and then they make their good escape to use your money to spend on chicken and malt liquor.

You fall unconscious and bleed to death during the night, because nobody's going to call an ambulance for the likes of you and even if they did, it wouldn't get there in time to save you anyway, because as we all know 911 is a fuckin' joke. Your body is soon moved to rot in an alley when people want to play basketball again.

A few days later when the cops make their once a month rounds in Da Hood to collect their extortion money, one of them finds your body and calls it in. You're buried and forgotten without fanfare.

The moral of the story?

Don't go down to Da Hood if you're a clueless white boy. If you wanted to buy drugs in a "poor area" you could've easily went to a trailer park. There are lots of nice white people there.

Oh and you probably shouldn't do drugs either. Maybe.

And now you know!