I didn’t have a ride to the gym, so I rode my bike. My mom bought me a bike from Sports Authority. It’s so shitty but I love it. The gears get stuck sometimes or they slip and I hit my shin hard as fuck on the pedal, but I don’t care. Riding a bike is fun. I rode my bike to the gym and then I rode around this neighborhood by my old high school, Western. The neighborhood is nice and the area around my house has a bunch of little trails to ride. I parked my bike and hung out at this bench by the lake. I can’t believe I ride a bike. I can’t believe I’m not on drugs. I rode home feeling so good, but it was getting dark. I had left my house around 7pm and started heading home around 10pm when I saw my mom’s headlights. I was riding down Boy Scout Road to my house and my mom pulled up next to me. 

“Bryan! What are you doing?!” She was freaking out. She told me to put the bike in the back of the car. I did, and she drove me home. “Your dad is pissed, why did you leave without telling us?” 

I get home and my dad starts yelling at me, calling me dumb and irresponsible. It’s all in Spanish. He is fucking crazy. Why does he always yell? I went for a fucking bike ride.

I fucking hate him. 

  . . .

So to get out of this program I have to level up. Have I explained that?

I'm in this outpatient program called STEPS. It’s in a shopping plaza. It's the only adolescent drug program like it, that’s what they said, it's brand new. We are right next to a Publix, it's probably like 2,000 square feet. It’s clean but nothing fancy at all… it looks like a child daycare, I guess it is… we don’t use the front door, this medical handicap van picks us up (I know) and drops us off at the back entrance, we have to stand in a single file line then we go in one by one and get stripped searched. Then, we need to sit in TOTAL SILENCE for 30 minutes to get breakfast. Every fucking morning, I swear, 30 minutes of silence, I tried to read a book when I first got here and they took it away, I can’t even read, we just have to sit there with our thumbs up our ass.

So there’s like ten of us here at this place, and we have to do packets and we get points. Everything is fucking points. I know, fucking retarded. I had negative 3,000 points a while ago, but I’ve been doing well lately. Today I got moved up to level three. We had to sit around in a circle and read this paragraph out loud on why we should level up. 

There’s this fat bitch, Jessica, I think I mentioned her before. She looks like a girl version of the blonde kid from Bad Santa. Remember that annoying little faggot? Well, that’s this girl. She was supposed to level up today too, and her therapist said she needs to wait a few more weeks. We are all sitting in a group and I lean over and say, “guess you’re not leveling up today, ha!” 

I WAS KIDDING.

But the fucking girl makes a big ass scene, crying and crying. Her face turns all red, tears running down her face, all the therapists come outside, she is crying like crazy. The therapists ask her what’s wrong and she tells them that I made her cry. Then my therapist Hilda comes out and says, “Well, now you’re not leveling up today either, Mr. Bryan.”

That’s what they call me here Mr. Bryan… I guess it’s cause I don’t fuck wit these clown ass faggot kids here. 

What the fuck!!!!

Everyone is so fucking nice to Jessica’s fat ass just cause she hear voices. Swear to god that’s the only reason. Who gives a fuck if she hears voices? 

Bitch, I hear voices too!