Addicted to You

I can’t remember the first time I saw you.  I can’t remember the first things we said to each other and I can barely even remember what you looked like back then.  There were no fireworks, no lightning bolts, and certainly no red flags to forewarn me that that was the man to change my entire life.

I had saved a seat for you right at the front.  When I caught your eye as you were standing off on the side, I waved you over.  You put a finger up to say, “Just a sec.”  At the end of that song, who steps up to the microphone, but you?  The music starts and I beam.  Our song.  You don’t need to look at the words as they flash across the screen, we both know it by heart.  You come right up to me and kneel down as you serenade me.  You’re not the greatest, but I’ve come to love it.  It’s been a year and I now have an entire album collected of the songs you’ve written me.  You were every girl's dream.

You taught me what love is.  You taught me how to trust and how to feel.  Happiness surrounded us and I came to know pure contentment.  I wasn’t blind or dumb, we had our problems, but we could take on anything.  We grew together.  You went from the shaggy loser in the basement who did distance education so you could play video games all day to the rugby player and honour student at one of the best schools, with more friends than one can count.  I grew confidence and self-confidence.  I was thriving.  We were on top of the world, nothing could have been better.  Then we went too far.  I guess it’s like when you reach the bottom so there’s nowhere to go but up, when we had reached the top, there was nowhere to go but down.  The descent down is so much faster, though.  Two years of building would smash in a mere two months.

Our last fight.  I didn’t want you sharing a tent with her.  Sure I trusted you, mostly.  Fine, that last time was a dare, but I didn’t want her in your tent.  I didn’t trust her.  Three hours.  Three hours of fighting, of you convincing me that you would never, ever be unfaithful.  Three hours before I was finally ok with the camping trip, which I was conveniently not invited on.  Then four days.  Four days later I picked you up for the movie premier we had tickets for.  You didn’t talk at all in the car.  If I directed a question at you it was a one-word answer.  It didn’t bother me at first; I was just so happy to see you and felt kind of silly for the fight.  Then I just had to make a joke about it.  So I made a sarcastic comment about how you were cheating on me with her and your only defence was, “Since when does it count when you’re totally smashed?”  And the lights in the theatre went down.

We stayed friends.  Although it took me a while to get over the anger of our break-up.  When I had asked how we fix it, how we move on from that you had told me that we don’t.  Two years just vanished and I was helpless.  It took about the same time for me to get over the anger towards you as it did for you to realize that that was the worst move of your life.  Or maybe it was your realization that made me less angry.  You began to slowly lose your mind.  It was almost like a game.  You had destroyed things with me so what else could you?  You started smoking.  Not really a big deal except that you had always made me promise that I would never.  Then cigarettes turned into weed.  You tried to assure me that it was harmless.  You had ecstasy hidden in your sock.  Your music changed, you slept with 6 different girls in two weeks, you got a job at a bar, and consumed more alcohol than I thought had ever been produced.  You were always an idiot when you were drunk.  And then that fateful day came.  The day you first tried crack.  You told me it never gets out of your head.  You can never think again without it controlling your thoughts.  And you snapped.

I moved away for school, but every time I was back in town you would make room for me.  Sometimes I would come just to visit you.  You came to visit me, too.  Each time I saw you, you were worse.  Probably because I was no longer seeing the steady progression, but just tuning in for snapshots of your fall towards Hell.  You scared me.  You were two different people.  You would come as the ravenous beast you were turning into, but the longer you were with me the more you would turn back into the man I loved.  But each time it took longer to get there.  Who you were was dying.

The phone call.  You had the knife.  You hated yourself.  You wanted to die.  You weren’t looking for salvation, you were looking for forgiveness.  Then you hung up.  The longest four minutes of my life.  You wouldn’t answer your phone.  I didn’t know where you were.  I’ve never cried so hard.  I couldn’t breathe.  Then my phone rang again.  The knife was too dull.
Life just kept moving.  It was no big deal, everything seemed to be going better, everything was strangely normal.  I can’t remember why I was in town, but I was busy and had to try and squeeze you in.  You stood me up.  When I called you answered with, “I can’t talk right now.”  I went out without you.  The next morning you called all cheery.  No apology.  I was mad.  You wouldn’t tell me what you were doing.  I got madder.  But I found some way to fit you in again.  This always happens.  Always has.  I get mad, I leave, you get cute, I come back, we pretend like nothing happened.  No wonder we never worked.  But I was sick of that.  No more pretending.  I was mad and hurt, you were going to know.  Especially when you said that the life of drugs was the dream.  I sarcastically responded, “So that’s why you’re so happy then?”  I told you that the drugs were all you had left and that I hated you.  I calmed down and you told me that you had stood me up to sell crack-cocaine.  I knew.  We talked about your new girlfriend and your job.  You had fallen asleep earlier so you checked your phone and called back your missed calls.  A drug deal.  And you wanted me to drive.  No fucking way.  That was it.  I was finally through.  I stormed out and was never coming back.  The drugs were finally more important than me.
I got home about 36 hours later.  9 missed calls.  All from my best friend, the one who had set us up.  I called her back.  Her voice was eerily calm, like she was trying overly hard to keep it from wavering.  You were in the hospital.  You had slit your throat.  You should have died.  First you had tried to O.D.  There were lethal amounts in your blood.  When that didn’t work, you tried a knife again.  It wasn’t dull this time.  You missed by mere millimetres.  And it was because of me.  I was finally bad for you.


         

"I don't know whether you want to hear from me, but there's something I need to say to you.  I lied to you.  When I told you that I hated you.  I've always meant it when I said that I would always love you, that hasn't changed, nothing can change that.  I was just so hurt, and I wanted to hurt you, I think I did.  But I didn't abandon you.  I know I said I wouldn't come back, I don't even know if you heard that part, but it's just that I can't be the only one fighting.  You always just expect me to come back simply by saying something cute or acting all happy like nothing was ever wrong and it can't work like that.  I always thought you were worth the fight, I still do, and you'll always mean so much more to me than you probably know right now, I've just realized that I'm doing more harm than good by staying by your side or by coming running anytime you said you needed me.  It's time I stopped fighting for you and you start fighting for you.  This hurts to say, I don't want to say it, but I think it's time we said goodbye. I don't know what you're looking for anymore, but you won't find the past again and that's all I'm a reminder of.  You don't need me.  And you're not alone.  By now you should have seen that there are still so many people in your life that care about you and want to be there for you.  And don't get me wrong, I would love more than anything to hold your hand or lay with you again, but it wouldn't help you.  It won't make you happy and that's all I want for you.  I honestly, to the bottom of my heart wish you were happy.  But I'm not the one to make you that way anymore.  So I do, truly, wish you happiness.  And I hope the world for you. But, for now at least, good bye.  I'll always love you."

You have the letter.  I wasn’t supposed to be here for this.  But you read it.  Then a second time.  And again.  All you whisper is, “I don’t think I can say goodbye.”  I can’t say anything.  You put a hand on my leg.  And you read it again.  Looking at me with terrible, terrified, heart-broken eyes you ask, “Goodbye for good?”  I nod.  One more painful word, “Why?”  I manage to choke out, “Because you need me to leave.”  And all you say is, “Ok.”

It was done.

But it never would be.

Forever you walk with me.  Forever a shadow.  If we were never to see each other again, you would still be there every step in my life.  Every time I yell, I’m yelling at you.  You’ve made me who I am.  You’ve made me this monster.  You’ve destroyed me.  No.  I did all that.  Because I loved you too much.  Because I still love you.  I can’t stop.  Even with someone else, you’re there.  Especially when I’m with someone else.  You’re the dagger in my side.  I can’t move because you hurt.  Because every day I want you.  To hear you, to talk to you, to see you.  I don’t know whether it gets harder or easier as time moves on.  I’m addicted. I’m addicted to you.