We had a bus driver, who in retrospect was a complete creep, who would give us cigarettes wrapped in bus write up notices. A friend of mine lived at the end of the bus route, and he would let us smoke on the bus. Close to the end of the year one year, we got him to buy us booze too. I was 14. Good lord. 

When I was a bit younger- 11-12 or so, we used to steal booze and cigarettes from my friends parents. We would also play manhunt into what felt like the middle of the night, with the body fluids of lightening bugs smeared on our faces like absolute lunatics. We would camp alone (together) in the woods behind our houses, build campfires, and just basically run the roads like we owned them. 

The same lot of us broke into our friends house a couple of times while they were away in vacation. We shared a beer, and watched their “good cable”. Idiots. 

My older brother and I used to have crazy parties at night (I was 13, and was brother was 15) while my mother was working overnights as a nurse. Once she would pull out of our long driveway at night, several sets of headlights would come right back up. We had a band play in our living room one night, and when it came time to clean up, we would throw all of the beer cans into the top of the unfinished wall in the kitchen. 

I drank a fifth of Boca chica rum at a biker pig roast at 14, ended up passing out in a ditch. Jesus, we were crazy. Well, I was anyway. There were many more occasions like that. 

I was expelled from school my sophomore year at 14/15. They had to chain the bathroom doors open because we would smoke so much pot and cigarettes in there. But, I was expelled for just never being at school. I had a 25 year old boyfriend with an older model black Camaro who used to pick me up at school (yeah, I know). One day my mother was trying to nab me and we literally outran her in the Camaro. I could see her drifting farther and farther behind. Oh man, my poor mother. I mean she was actually a rage machine who never gave me a speck of comfort my entire childhood, but still. 

I moved out and lived in a tent in a coastal Maine tourist town at 16. There was an old dead head, “Sunshine”, who lived in our campground on someone’s farm. One time he gave me a ride back and he was doing about 5 mph going up the road. It turned out he was a heroin addict, but I was so naive I had zero idea what was going on. 

I’m autistic, and I never knew that. It was agonizing feeling so out of sorts from everyone else. My mother was also super emotionally abusive, and my parents had gone through a violent divorce. I automatically related to the people on the fringes, because I never felt like one of the “normal kids”. Not at all. Anyhow, I’m lucky to be alive. The stuff I listed was the tip of the iceberg.