Book: The diary of Alice (the Blue grass. The diary of a fifteen-year-old junkie)

Even now I do not know what part of me is real, and what is taken from books.

Adolescence is a very difficult period. Adults treat teenagers like children and expect them to behave like children. Command them like little animals, and then want to grow up as normal adults. Rationally thinking, confident people. It is difficult, useless, unstable period.

We are furious when we point out that we do, but we don't know what to do, until someone won't tell us. Let someone else think for us and acts for us. Let them build houses, roads, make cars, spend gas, electricity, water and Sewerage. And we will sit here on our Asses with calloused hands down.

People are the worst creatures on earth.

Kids like robots, a part of the pipeline, and I don't want to be a robot!

Yesterday I bought this diary because I had something wonderful, remarkable and important, something personal, which I have no one, no one could share. And now, like everything else in my life, it's something turned into a total nothing.

Fears, trapped inside, are distorted and appear bigger than they really are.

I spent hours contemplating the uniqueness and splendor of your right hand.

I think I never justified anyone's hopes, and certainly never close to their own ideals.

We are furious when we point out that we do, but we don't know what to do, until someone won't tell us. Let someone else think for us and acts for us.

Cat Alex just had a baby and I was sitting on the porch and looked at the kittens. And I had a revelation! Without drugs! The kittens fur was so soft, like the softness of the whole world gathered at one point. So soft that when I closed my eyes, I wasn't sure what touching him. I took the gray cat, it was called Happiness, and held to the ear. I felt the warmth of her little body and heard her incredibly gentle purr. Then she poked my ear, and I was overcome with the feeling that I wanted to open up to the world. It was better than a drug trip, a thousand, a million, a trillion times better! It was so real! This softness was not a hallucination - the sounds of the night, the noise of cars, the chirping of crickets... It was all really.

Mom would be proud of my present way of thinking and discernment. So sorry we can't talk anymore. I remember when I was little, we talked to her, but now it's like we speak different languages and the meaning of words doesn't get to us.

I know my mom worried about me because I barely speak, but what to tell me? The more so because she made a rule: if you have nothing nice to say, don't say anything. I'll never have to open his mouth, except while eating, but I eat a lot!

The worst part today was to see the fragile body of her grandmother was lowered into this dark, bottomless hole. It seemed that she swallows it, and when they began to throw earth on the coffin, I thought I was going to scream.