The beginning of my freshman year in high school started out to be what I thought was, "great." I was hanging out with the cool seniors and moving up the social ladder quite rapidly. Little did I know how much my friends would influence my life.
             My parents had just got divorced and I bottled my hurt and anger inside like a well corked bottle of vintage champagne ready to pop. Consequently, I began a short-lived series of rebellious actions that seemed to help me cope with my pain such as having a few beers after school at my girlfriend Claudia's house.
             The first time I was introduced to pot was in fact at Claudia's. Her older brother Alex had a lot of cute friends that made the peer pressure so much easier to give into. The tightly rolled joint made it's way towards me testing my judgement the closer it came. The foreign object was held closely to my pursed lips and I tried to inhale. As the smoke filled up my lungs I began to choke. Laughter filled the air and everyone told me that it happens the first time you try it. At that point I didn't want to ever attempt to smoke again. I was quite happier with being able to breathe and swallow bitter beer instead. The daily routine became quite familiar, a phone call to either mom or dad saying I was studying with friends. Twisting the truth, which was drinking with Claudia. After all my parents had no reason not to trust me and had no clue I would cope with the divorce in such a manner.
             I knew my dream of the perfect "Leave It to Beaver" family would never be fulfilled. I must admit, my perception of a normal family was little off the wall and possibly a bit too unrealistic. My pain and confusion made it all the easier to hide my feelings and become bitter and mean. Hanging out with friends and drinking a few beers seemed to be the one thing that made me forget about the fact that Mommy and Daddy would never be together again. ...