This encounter opened my eyes. What other horrors would lurk in my future if I failed to read the drugs facts in the agenda book? I tore out of that studentâ€™s pathetic hovel, panic in my eyes, and ran home at full sprint. The ground spun beneath my feet. The sky burgeoned with clouds and rumbled with thunder.
Finally I reached home, grabbed my agenda book, and sat down to read it. The truth shocked me. I could barely close my eyes until finally I had read every single drug fact. The book started slowly, mentioning that teens that hang around people that are drinking have an increased chance of injury, and then escalated into a grand fugue of death and self-destruction. By the end of the book they had disclosed that 400,000 people die each year from cigarette smoking. I saw the corpses piled in mass graves, their black lungs protruding from ravaged torsos.
I couldnâ€™t eat. I couldnâ€™t sleep. The agenda book sat on my dresser, beckoning, calling to me to with some dark force of terror all its own.
I couldnâ€™t take it anymore. I got some white-out and smeared it across all of the drug facts. Then I replaced them all with happier sentiments. "I believe in fairies," I wrote, "You can always succeed if youâ€™re willing to try, try, TRY!" Finally, I was able to sleep, secure in the knowledge that the plight of my decaying generation would never be revealed.