If I die before I wake...

There was a time when skating was the only thing that mattered. That familiar pop you heard when you pushed your foot down on the end of the board was met with the sound of wheels spinning mid-air and finally the sound of the wheels hitting the ground you riding away smoothly was the soundtrack to your days. Your legs were covered in bruises and scrapes, sometime screaming to at you to stop but you couldn't. You'd go hours without eating only remembering you haven't eaten since the night before when your stomach would protest loudly as the streetlights came on and the sun went down. You'd ride down to Circle K or the local gas station stocking up on chips and an icee because that's all you needed. All you wanted to do was spend your days skating and nights watching countless skate videos while putting together a new set up. 

Nothing else in the world really mattered. We didn't notice how the seasons were changing right before our very eyes or how things were slowly but surely getting worse at home and school. Grades were slipping, more bruises were showing but no one said a thing. Not one word. Skate rats. Skate punks. I bet all they do is get high and skate. They deserve what's happening to them. The bad grades were chalked up to skating and getting high. 

We didn't care. 

All we wanted to do was skate. 

And that's exactly what we did.