Drugs can be addictive, kids - it's a fact. Some people feed off of their own high, just living for the next moment they can get their fix, with everything else just becoming a filler until the next time they get their dose of happiness in a syringe, packet or a blunt. And what is all the anticipation for? A quick couple of hours spent feeling lifted and a very possible withdrawal later on, just to come back and repeat the cycle all over again. Oh what a feeling it is to be relying on a substance to get through and to be happy, but some people will do anything to be happy, even if they are paying a fatal price for it.
Doesn't love operate on the same level, when a guy/girl might be wrong for you but you keep coming back because there are glimpses of bliss, here and there, because there is hope for something you conjured up in your own head to get you through the stressful minutes of the every day?
I tried to quit my drug because I wanted to move on, convinced that there might be something better out there, convinced that my withdrawals and hangovers weren't worth the couple of hours every couple of months where I felt completely and totally happy. I tried working on moving on, maybe half-heartedly and maybe still hoping for my drug to keep my heart fried all the time without any side-effects, but I did try, nevertheless.
However, when my drug... Mr J contacted me and said that he wanted to come visit me for a day before he left for Europe to take a couple of classes in some abroad-law-school program, I could no longer deny my interest in him. I shifted things around, I stayed up later every night to squeeze more work in and be more productive, all so I could free up some time to see Mr J.
I was discombobulated, exasperated and out of breath, rushing into my apartment Friday evening - fresh from an airport and a job interview in Philly , I beat Mr J to my apartment by only a couple of flimsy minutes. While at my place, I ran around frantically, stuffing excess articles of clothing and books on my living room floor into the nooks and crannies of my closets so that my apartment would look pristine in time for his visit. I couldn't forget freshening up either - I curled my eyelashes, applied some mascara, powdered my cheeks with blush, sprinkled a bit of my favorite Vera Wang perfume on my wrists. I was about to revert back to my old way and give into my drug of choice, and I couldn't wait to do it.
He arrived a few minutes behind me and called to let me know he was at the door in the lobby downstairs. I came to get him, opened the front door. A slightly reserved but a heart-felt hug and a few flights of stairs later, and we were cozying up on my living room couch.
This time was different. We were both quiet for quite a bit but there was a feeling on unspoken tenderness between us. He put his arm around me and kissed the top of my head. I wrapped my legs over his, my head resting on his shoulder, not a word spoken between us but so much being said at the same time.
After a while, he finally broke the silence, "Did you miss me?"
"Of course I did. Did you miss ME?"
"I did. I missed you a lot."
I felt unconditional love again. The love I've been trying to suppress and move on from and flat out reject all together. All because I couldn't stand the feeling of longing I had for him when he was not with me. But is the feeling of longing worse than feeling nothing at all? Is it really worse than trying to coast through my dates with the Entrepreneur, feeling tingles of excitement here and there, but for the most part experiencing all-encompassing numbness and indifference?
And like a crackhead right out of rehab and back on the street again with no supervision and no willingness to remain sober, I gave into my drug once again.