WILL WE MAKE IT TO SEA

[SANITAGO ATTICUS KING]

stop there and let me correct it ,
i wanna live a life from a new perspective

The worst part about living at Stanfield was that if you skipped class or a therapy session you couldn’t just curl up in your bed and worry about it the next day. All the teachers, therapists, and every other staff member know where you stayed. This was obviously a problem for Santiago because he usually didn’t go to class and he hated his therapist. As a result of his lack of attendance they’ve “grounded” him. All that meant it that he couldn’t leave the building and they were sending a letter to his parents. As you could probably imagine that didn’t sit well with him but it’s wasn’t exactly anything new for him either. He couldn’t be any less interested in anything that was going on at Brighton so not being able to leave was torture. Santiago put his hand under his pillow and fished out a pack of cigarette’s and walked over to the window.

Santiago stood next to one of only two windows in the whole room to smoke. The window was small and he had it wide open. Smoking wasn’t permitted in the dorm rooms but that didn’t stop the nicotine deprived boy from doing it any way. Santiago stood with his elbow on the windowsill and smoked his cigarette. To dawned on him that he’d been at Brighton for a little while and still didn’t really know his roommates all that well. This was odd for two reasons. Reason number one: Santiago had been in and out of places like this since he was fifteen and usually made it a point to figure out his dorm mates first. Reason number two: He just couldn’t stand the feeling of not knowing. He knew who they were supposed to be, he knew all their names. But if he had to put a name to a face it just wouldn’t be happening. Santiago looked around at the beds in the room. Some were nicely kept and other, like his, was a big mess. He took a slow drag and blew it out the window. The walls next to most of the beds were blank just the nauseating white wall. Most people would probably like to know the people they’re shearing a room with or at least that was what he though people wanted to know. But honestly Santiago couldn’t give to shits less. He figured that once he really got settled down here he could face his way out like he had in rehab. That was his master plan. Right now he would rather be in rehab. You have a room to yourself and it’s so much easier to get stuff past them. That’s exactly why he parents didn’t send him back there. To bad. Santiago took another long drag of his cigarette. It was already half gone. Fuck me! he thought. This whole “grounded” this really wasn’t going to fly now. Santiago was already at a half a pack and he knew it was going to be gone by tomorrow afternoon. One pack in two days that how it had always been for the boy ever since he was sixteen. He had weed but that just could replace nicotine. As far as he could tell he only had two options. A) He could leave campus and get a pack or B) he could boost some from one of his room mates who, for some reason, he assumed smoked. Both would end in him getting in trouble but at least he would have cigarettes. A fair compromise in his eyes.

Santiago took a few more drags and rolled up his sleeve and the cigarette to his skin to put it out. He flinched a little at the small hot circle than threw the cigarette out the window and shut it. Burning had recently replaced cutting since they’d taken just about everything away from him. Santiago walked over to his bed and sat on the edge to count four small circles where he had been burning himself. He touched the oldest one. He’d done it the first night he was at Stanfield. He considered burning one of the smartest ideas he’d ever had. Sad isn’t it. The pain of burning yourself lasted longer than if you cut. There was a sound at the door and Santiago pulled his sleeve down fast lightly brushing the new burn making it hurt even worse.

you come along because i love your face ,
and i'll admire your expensive taste
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