My Addiction

She was distant, unknown, and I was naturally intrigued. My experience with the feminine at the moment was non-existent, every time I see them I wonder where they belonged. We were going to meet on the roof, and I lingered with anticipation on that windy plateau for well longer than I had to, what can I say, I had nothing better to do. If I knew how dangerously intertwined we'd be for years to come, I would have left her there for somebody else to find.
    As it was, though, this was the single most exhilarating moment I'd ever experience. Our lives were one, and as I tapered off of my social obligations we saw each other more and more. She was in my blood. It was an era, for certain, and the mood was exciting, enticing, and made me feel truly alive. Idyllic as this time was, those who watched my life like vultures, my family had nothing positive to say about this 'era' of my life.
    And to end this era I recast my life into her glorious mold. Her friends and I shared her pleasures in common, and we would all indulge together. She took my money, though I was in too much of a lover's stupor to ever notice, I do suppose now it was my fault. We lived together, me and the friends, and it was an incredible time to be alive, but when we ran out of money, we also ran out of patience. Blissful as our time had been, it would end shakily.
    As we had lusted for her together, so we also withdrew from her together, and this was a crucial time in my understanding of people. These friends of mine would ignore her, she would be sitting, screaming to be noticed, but they would find other things with which to keep busy. This drove me crazier than ever before, I thought our unity was bonded by a shared love, but instead it was the time we shared that caused it. Their disgust for my interactions with her led me out and away from their arms onto the street.
      I would have married her if I had the chance, but it never could be. I know I'll never feel as good as I did on that rooftop again, in fact I would never feel a breeze again, as far as I knew. Incarcerated and far from her, the cops had caught me, alone but not lonely, with her in my arm. Behind these bars there is no solace, no tempering of my rage, but only a longing, and when I am released, if I am released, to her arms I shall return. She was my heroin.