Now, Ilive in a nice neighborhood. However, I have learned over the years, I do not live in a nice town.

This realization came to me over thesummer of 2005. I went to Myrtle Beach with my family for a week over the fourth of July. Thenight I got back to my town in Northern Virginia, I immediatlywent tothe restaurant were Iwas working at the timebecause my two best friends, Christina and Amanda,were working and I wanted to see them. I hung out there for a little while until they both got off work and then we sat out on the patio for a little while. When we were leaving, Christina said she'd drive me home.

On the wayto my house, a short drive,Christina and I were justjamming out to who knows what and not even talking. When she pulls up in front of my house just past my driveway to drop me off, a car flies past us, whipes around the col-de-sac and pulls up behind up right before my driveway. I had opened my door already and Christina and I were just looking back at this car asking one another: Is that Amanada? Didn't she go home? What is she doing?

Suddenly a girl gets out of the passenger seat of the car and starts running at me. Now, I had smoked a blunt before I had met up withmy best friends so as I just sat in the passenger seat of Christina's car with the door all the way open and just looking back at this girl running at me, this was my thought process:
Who is that? Is that Heather? (that's the girl I had smoked with