What Do You Think of the First Chapter of My Book?

Question by Kylie Tee: What do you think of the first chapter of my book?
I wrote this as the first chapter to a book I would like to write. Please, don’t feel the need to be nice. I can take criticism.

1—Hypnotism?
How do we know this whole thing isn’t one big hypnotism? Here, I think I’m sitting on my friend’s roof hiding from her dad, since he doesn’t know I’m living here. What if I’m really on stage entertaining an audience? Wouldn’t that be nice? I wouldn’t be living here—in secret—because my mom kicked me out due to my being an 18-year-old alcoholic, drug addict who can’t manage to keep her ass out of jail. “For my next trick, she’ll turn her life around.” Oh, I wish it could just be that easy. Sorry, that was probably just the three bowls of chronic thinking.
What about later when I buy another eight ball? For those of you reading this who aren’t “drug educated,” that’s meth. It can also be other “powders,” but in my case and for the sake of this story, it’s crank, glass, ice, speed. Who am I kidding? It’s meth. It doesn’t make it better to give it a cooler name. That’s not hypnotism, I do it.
What about when I have Larry drop by the liquor store to buy me another bottle tomorrow morning? Isn’t it so pathetic? I have him buy it in the morning so I can be drunk by noon and not care that I’m technically homeless. For now, that’ll be my excuse for drinking. Later it’ll be because someone pissed me off. Then, who knows what reason I’ll have. I always seem to find one. That’s not hypnotism, I live it.
There I go again. I tell myself that I wish it would be easy to quit… while I’m doing exactly what I don’t want to be doing—smoking pot on the roof waiting for my next chance to score better drugs and more alcohol. I’m not belittling the fact that it’s extremely hard to quit. I just think it would be a lot easier if I did more than say that I want to. That’s not hypnotism, I hate it.
How does it all start? I keep trying to ask myself how I got into it. I know that it started with smoking. It really is a “gateway.” Though, that usually means marijuana. My “gateway” was cigarettes. I loved the nicotine high, so I started chasing something better. I got it. I smoked Afghan-Chronic my very first time.
Mind you, marijuana is not addictive. It’s just very habit-forming. You don’t know what to do when you’re not getting high. Nothing is ever the same afterwards; no color is quite as vibrant, no noise is quite as amazing, no text message takes quite as long to send— time goes by a lot faster when you’re sober— no pizza ever tastes quite as delicious. You get the point. It’s not that it’s addictive; it’s that it is so amazing.
I don’t know what happened. I heard that THC was a mild form of Acid and I decided I needed to try that. I was too scared to hallucinate, so I chickened out. The guy said, “That’s okay. Try this instead.” He used his credit card to make two lines. He did the first one as a demonstration and I followed suit. I came to find out later—when I was begging for more—it was meth. I was 16 and it was exactly what my mom didn’t want me to be doing. Naturally, I loved it.
When you go to a lot of parties, you start to drink. Aside from the time that I have been in juvie-hall and jail, I haven’t gone a day without a drink since my 16th birthday. I’m not proud of it, but that’s pretty much who I am. The second time I went to jail (and my fourth alcohol ticket) my mom told me not to bother coming home.
That’s how I got on this roof, smoking this chronic, hiding from Mariah’s dad, thinking about whether or not I’m hypnotized. I’ve been sleeping on their couch, but I have to be out by 6 AM—when he gets up for work—and can’t be in later than 10—when he locks the door. When he is home, if I have nowhere to be, I sit on the roof. It’s already 11, so I have to sit here until I’m tired and then quietly go back through her brother, TJ’s, window and down to the couch. Their dad, Bryin, is pretty much the only person who doesn’t know what’s happening.
That’s mostly true. They think I’ve stopped drinking, smoking, and doing drugs all together. That’s kind of a laugh to me. As badly as I want to stop, I don’t think I ever will. I’ve cut back a lot. I haven’t snorted the wonderful powder for almost two days. I know that sounds pathetic, but try going through withdrawals and being homeless. It doesn’t work, so I don’t try to make it.
I’ve considered just asking if we can have a “sleepover” so that I can go through the withdrawals on their couch and get it over with. I really would like to stop with the crank. I want to have a respectable job and a family one day. That’s not exactly a drug-friendly dream.
Back to my question… How do we know this isn’t just one big hypnotism? For that matter, it could just be a long dream, or a hallucination. What if I’m mentally insane and just sitting at a coffee shop mumbling incoherently to myself, all the while thinking I’m leading a life? Not a good one, but a life nonetheless. I would have a crowd of people gathered around trying to

Best answer:

Answer by rockstar080790
good….some grammatical errors but otherwise, keep it up.

answer mine?
http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=20091207161110AAbGmTJ

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