Bloody, sodomising, hair-pulling hell; I'm out of NyQuil.
Hullo, I'm Charles. Fourteen, and loving every drop of my "big fuckin' 'Q,'" as Denis Leary so clearly put it. I take it nightly for sleep problems [Otherwise, I do not sleep at all.], and have slowly become addicted, it would seem. It's my little legal drug-buddy, and everyone knows it; I educate myself in the field of narcotics as much as I can, so I know what to trust. While Diphenhydramine [Sominex] used to do it for me, NyQuil has become my favourite sedative, aside from hospital anesthesia. I walk around while the effect lasts, laughing silently at the numbness in my legs and arms; not a good idea, I know, but walking down a stairwell in such a state is simply wondrous.
I don't chug it, mind you; I'd most likely sleep for four days. A quadruple-dose of Maximum-Strength Sominex proved that it may take quite a bit to hit me hard, but when it happens, I'm gone. I have school and whatnot, so sleeping for so long would only hurt me, no matter how beneficial to my health it is.
Cherry is my flavour of choice, and.. yeah.
Oh, well. I'm new, and this is me; that's all for now.