Your friend dies in a random hotel room in Idaho.

You convince yourself that maybe you’re paying homage to him by living like he did. You drive recklessly and treat the people who care about you like shit.

CONSUMPTION BY NADA JABBOURI 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 137

Okay so your friend dies in a random hotel room in Idaho. In the way that young people do he did too much.

Five years later his girlfriend at the time, who kind of hates you now, lets you know that the situation was much worse than you thought and that the pieces of shit kids who should’ve been aborted that were with him that night were 100 per cent to blame.

Small-town politics allowed for these kids, whose futures were as bright as the inside of your actual fucking asshole, to skip it away a la Wizard of Oz and disperse across the country to do jackshit with their lives. Cool. Now what?