First Paragraph, would you be interested in reading this?

Question by starkillavintage: First Paragraph, would you be interested in reading this?
There’s a loud buzzer going off in the room, and my head is pounding. I’m not quite sure where I am as my eyes try to adjust to very bright lights peering in. A young nurse pulls back the heavy brown curtains in my room, and then I remember where I’m at. All these fears and thoughts start running through my head. I’m in Hell, otherwise known as The Polson Treatment Center, I’m in rehab. I sit up in my bed, as the overly friendly and cheerful nurse comes to my bedside, my long dark hair is matted to my face, I’m sure my mascara is smeared, I’m almost certain I look white as a ghost. And then comes the pain. “I need a bucket” I mumble. “What’s that you say sweetie?” The nurse says in her thick southern accent. ” I need a bucket,” I now shout “I’m going to throw up.” Rubbing my back, as my head lays low, the nurse begins to speak. “That’s just the withdrawal, you’ll be ok in a few days, your body’s just getting used to not having the drugs in it.” I look up, trying to make out this woman’s sweet face. “Where is the shower?” I ask quietly, I still have it in my head that I’m going to shower, get dressed, meet Cara for lunch, mimosas, and shopping. “Louise.” The nurse says as she’s helping me out of my bed. “What?” I ask her puzzled. “My name is Louise, I’ll be your day nurse.” she says as I’m ushered into a putrid lime green bathroom, the decor alone is going to make me more sick. The water from the shower hits my face, the warmth of it is comforting. I open my eyes, this is it I tell myself, for the first time, in a long time I’m really alone. I look down at my skin, my fake tan is washing away in the shower, some of my acrylic nails are missing, and I wonder how I let it all go away. I step out of the shower, grabbing the towel I look in the mirror at my five foot eight body, I see my bones protruding, my face so thin. I hardly recognize myself, and then comes the pain again, I lunge to the toilet, and as I sit there, on the cold floor, hugging the porcelain thrown, my life for the past two years flashes in front of me. My eyes closed, I see images of people, bright lights, loud music, Cara toasting me with a glass of Moet, me in my little Bebe dress, and then the drugs. As a flash of cocaine lying on a table, and me taking a hit off of it, I snap back into reality. flushing the toilet, I try and stand on my feet. I almost lose my balance, but I manage to stumble to the bed. I lay down and look around. No phone, no TV., no computer. Just a bed, a dresser, and a window. I pull the heavy blanket over my head and just wish it would all go away. It would be three days, before I start to feel some what normal, well normal meaning walking on my own, not running to the bathroom every twenty minutes to throw up, and no more night sweats.
http://www.myspace.com/confessionsofasocialclimb
ok so thank you to all of you for your opinions… technically its not the first paragraph, its bunched together because i wasnt sure how many “Characters” I was allowed to have on here. It is actually spaced out in the book format.

I am aware that it needs editing, right now im just in the process of writing.

and this is loosely based on my life and what has happend to me. The withrawls, as the person at the bottom stated. I do not want to say what shes withdrawling from/ her full situation. it will be revealed later on. you can go to my website, and read the first 7 chapters.
the book is called Confessions of a Social Climber.

http://www.myspace.com/confessionsofasocialclimb

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