It's not until you're nineteen, looking back that you see your mistakes.

But when you're seventeen and heart broken anything that can **** you makes you ease the pain. You're dancing with the devil but you love the way he plays with your hair while he's stabbing the knife into your back.

Your heart is on the floor shattered and nothing feels better than to silence his voice with another shot of hope, another shot of happiness.

You take one for being strong and another because you're not.

You're seventeen and sad with hopes that someday you can look at that boy and know you killed the demons he left you lying in the floor with.

And it's not until you're nineteen and mended that you realize you were childish. But you had to survive. And a fifth of ***** and 3 packs of cigarettes a day helps you survive in a world that is crashing down beside of you...