Euphoria was a bitch to have a love affair with. She'd come strolling into the night, crash the party, and leave in the morning, with only the grappling effects of trying to recall the episodes from the past nights. Of course there were vows to stop her, to end what initially was meant for a casual hook up. But now she was constantly all over the place; an enigma welcomed in between the sheets. The rational mind always gave signals, but she was able to override the warnings.
And so, despite the heartfelt efforts of luring her away for good, that feeling, that yearning became even more overpowering. Again and again. She was the lover who knew exactly how to take control. She was addiction beyond the imaginable. Compulsive and raw.
When they first met, Euphoria fell in love with the loneliness and the charm. She didn't mean to imprison a user. It all began as an occasional guilty pleasure, voluntary and controlled. They would meet late in the night, sometimes with a friend or two, and they would simply let go of the world surrounding them--all the angst, the anxiety, and the anger.
Letting go was as simple as that. It was about the moment, focusing only on the now. For a couple of hours, it was about a momentary happiness. It was a bitch when morning would come and to realize that Euphoria had left, perhaps with a kiss goodnight to serve as a reminder for whenever their next casual encounter would take place.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Another 7 minutes had passed. The water from the kitchen faucet maintained a steady rhythm. It almost sounded like soldiers preparing for battle. They were getting ready to locate their target, keep their line of sight, and aim. 9 minutes. Paranoia sunk in. Death seemed imminent.
"Let's go! We have to go now!" Eyes blinked, dazed and confused. Finally, a clearing. The fog had let up. Eyes now focused, heartbeat stabilized.
It was just another Friday night in the city that never sleeps.
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