Drugs are bad for you.

Maybe deep down I loved the feeling of being hurt, because maybe that's the only feeling that makes me feel alive. Maybe I loved it too much that I became addicted to it. Maybe that's why it's so hard for me to walk away. Maybe that's why I didn't want to write about it again. Maybe my addiction started way before meeting you... Pain and love are drugs and that should be a fact.

I thought I tried them one time, but I'm pretty sure I swallowed another type of pill because at that time it tasted like pain and love, but it was not. It tasted like lust, like adrenaline, like I was about to vomit... He tasted like cigarettes. He tasted like mild pain, he tasted like summer love. A taste I would look for in another but would never find. He tasted like he's going to be around, but never too close. He tasted like teenage love. He felt like lonely days and bright days at the same time. He felt and smelled like the ocean, he was deep and shallow at the same time. He looked strong, because he talked about his weakness as if they were nothing. He looked like he needed saving, but he always preferred to be lost. He had James Dean's look. If I was a drug, I would be him. He made me swoon with his words, he would talk to me like I was his muse. He was another kind of addictive, a type of drug that couldn't kill, but could hurt.

The second time around that I've encountered drugs, it was not pain and love either, it was close, but... na, wait until I tell you about the third one. The second pill was hard to swallow, because it came with a lot of questions. It was an unknown pill, a pill I never knew I'd take. He tasted like vodka. He also tasted like mild pain, he tasted like expensive shit. He felt like silk and smelled like strong cologne. He felt like he was not going to be around for too long, because he's always belonged to someone else. Someone whom he never wanted. He wanted adventure, he was curious, he wanted to live again. He felt like someone I could trust but would betray me behind my back. He tasted like someone else's, but wanted me to own him. He was another type of addictive, a type of drug you try and never try again. Not because it harmed only you, but harmed more people whenever you'd take it.

The third and first time I ever tried drugs, I was 17 years old. Maybe 18. He came out of nowhere, but at the same time I knew exactly where. He tasted like... He tasted like true love. He tasted like the closest I've ever been to love. You know, most people would run away from this drug, but a few like me did not, I run to it, I was drawn to it. He tasted like forever, but I knew would it would hurt like hell. He felt like heaven, he felt like home. He looked like someone you'd marry, and I swore to God he looked like the father of my children. But it was not. That drug can kill, that drug would replace you in days, he would say he loved you having someone else by his side. He would say he misses you while having dinner with someone else. He would say he wanted you back while he hangs out with someone else. He sounded and looked like an angel, an angel who would break you in pieces. He's the type of drug that you normally get, because you think it's not dangerous, but half way through you realize there's no way you can quit, you loved him too much that when he left and found someone else a part of you died.

... wait, are we still talking about drugs?