A Perfect Drug

Dependence. The state of relying on or being controlled by someone or something else.

There are many examples of addiction, but we can all agree or disagree that love is the most debilitating of them all. At varying degrees in my life, I have, undoubtedly, experienced unwavering flood of attraction and lust, fleeting moments of contentment, test of loyalty, and the color palette of grief. But at the core of it all, no matter what emotion is shared, what experiences might marry us to each other, there will always be that inexplicable need for human connection, even if it means none at all.

Dependence or co-dependence. I can't help the feeling in the pit of my stomach. I think I'm in love. I can't eat, I can't sleep, I can't function. All I think about is you. All I see is you. I see you in my dreams. I hear you in my thoughts. You define my life, give it meaning, and now I want to wake up in the morning and make it to nightfall, to watch the moon and stars by your side. You are my drug--my ecstasy with a fervent touch, my adrenaline rush in an autumn afternoon, my overdose I pretend not to recognize. Against all odds, despite your venom, despite your overpowering sense of being. You are my perfect drug, against all raison d'etre.

It's the same song that you and I both sing once or twice a year, maybe even more. There is no use stopping the madness. Because even if I am "mad," does it really matter? Would I really just stop myself and think if this is right for me? This is why I have bruises on my arms, blood on my dress. Everyone sees me as helpless, powerless, and only under your control. You have a hold on me. You don't even have to lay a finger. All you have to do is smile, and instinctively, what I've developed as second nature, I obey. I tell everyone I love you. I tell you I love you. I tell myself I love you. It doesn't matter what they say. I've waited for you my entire life, from every face and form, and now that you're here, all I see is you.

She's every girl who wants love or affection, but finds it in addiction and dependence, and even in the game of manipulation. They coincide, sometimes co-existing to create one terrible truth. Some would consider it weak, and others might think it human nature.

She, on the other hand, thinks of the night of the moon and the stars that await her, not alone or in the unforgiving arms of loneliness, but with the drug that is you.