Don't Do Drugs

I remember that it was more than just fear- that it was existential dread, creeping up from my ankles to my neck, making my body clench so hard I thought my bones would be grinded to powder. The mere thought that I might be exposed, cast away from my family and community, lose the few friends that I had, and live the rest of my life wondering what could have been had I just continued to contain myself like I had been for years already. But then I’d remember the feeling I got every time I saw you. It seems obscene to describe it with words. So I’ll say that it was medicine, the cure to my dread. A muscle relaxer that eased the tension on my shoulders and let me sink into the Earth. A pill that vaporized my worries and focused my brain one the only thing that mattered: you. And every time I got my dose I wanted to end the façade, to leave my self-imposed containment. Even if it killed me.

You had to be the first one to know, it was only fair. The cocktail of surprise, confusion, delight, and fear on your face comforted me. I must have been doing a decent job passing as straight to surprise and confuse you, and you must have been feeling the same high I felt to be that delighted and afraid.

The two days you took to give me a response was the worst type of pain I had experienced. I started to hate you, to direct all my rage and frustration and repression towards you. I couldn’t even begin to fathom that I had put my heart on the line and risked it all for someone who did not have the same flame, the same longing that grew stronger every day it was denied, the same borderline obsession that had perhaps gotten unhealthy but would be even more unhealthy to quit cold turkey. My personal abyss darkened and deepened as I imagined you telling everyone my secret. It became impossible, unthinkable, to do anything, eat anything, say anything.

“Would you like to go on a date?”

And with just seven words you made the sun rise over my universe. I wasn’t scared to be seen in public with you, although I probably should have been. It was hard to be afraid when my heart was beating out of its chest and I realized I had never truly been awake in my life, able to hear and feel and see this clearly, even as the edges began to blur over and my breathing was rushed.

Talking was an art for you. Every single word that left your lips was purposefully chosen, articulated softly and loudly, powerful but not aggressive. You floated from topic to topic effortlessly, drew me in to things I thought I didn’t care about, said what was on your mind unapologetically. I wished I had your courage. We were frozen in time and space, in our own dimension where we could stay as long as we wanted. Just the two of us. A place where I could hear your deep blue eyes, see your deep raspy voice, taste your spirit, know that the body and consciousness were different entities. That we would return here after death. But you pulled me back into the real world before it was too late, to top of mental and spiritual fulfillment with physical fulfillment. No matter how safe you tried to be I knew it was dangerous, that this time I would never want to come back down to Earth.

I was waiting for a crash that never happened. Even if we had to act like complete strangers in school, even if we would sometimes go weeks without a session, it didn’t matter. All I needed was to make eye contact, to smell your cologne, to hear your voice crack and I was back in our world and in your arms. And once I had learned the art of daydreaming I could be high 24/7. It didn’t matter to me if plates of food went untouched, hours of sleep were missed, and my mouth went dry.

It didn’t even matter to me when the accident happened and the whole school - even the ones that tormented you - went to your funeral. Don't get me wrong - the crash from quitting cold turkey was intense. I was parched, starved, pained, sleeping for more hours than I was awake, my brain tearing into my skull. But I wasn’t sad, I was jealous that you were in our dimension, tasting the warmth and seeing smooth jazz, without me. It took four days for the haze to completely leave, and I was left with a clear purpose: stay sober. Lower my voice, pick a favorite sports team, find a woman, have two kids, get a house with a white picket fence. Don’t do anything that could make me lose my sobriety. Live life half asleep like I always have, dull my senses, see the trees and leaves and birds as nothing more. Because once my unremarkable life in this hellish realm is complete, I’ll join you in the real world.