Journal # 1 - A Cynical Teen

     Another boring trip. I can’t believe we are going back to Banff AGAIN. This is the third time, and I grew tired of it the first time. This trip is just another one of my parents attempts at trying to find "the good in me." The good in me? How retarded. I am who I am, it’s so like them to try and go and change it all. They must not bevery bright either, god, you would think the second time coming here that they would be able to point it out to themselves that it just is not going to work. They are so optimistic. It’s disgusting. So here we are, packed from front to back of the car with luggage, tents, fishing poles, matches, canned food, lawn chairs, lanterns, you name it, when it comes to camping, we brought it. My dad even brought a canoe, how fun. Oh well, I have my MP3 player, freshly stocked with hours of tunes just waiting to be listened to, and a book, I brought my book, incase I need to, and most likely will, escape from reality. Some kids use drugs, some booze, all I need is music and a good book and I’m set. I can’t wait to get there and get out my guitar, the craving to play is already hitting me like a slap in the face and we haven’t even been gone an hour yet. Not gone an hour and already I want to be back with my friends. When will we get there?