Hey...
With that one little word in that simple text message all my resolve melted - I was hooked on him again. Every part of me urged me not to respond to that SMS, but like an addict, my cravings to see him... to be with him... took the best of me. I replied to the message, my body itching all over.
"Gary, don't see him. You know he's a jerk, he just calls you when he wants something. He knows what buttons to push..." My friends repeatedly told me, but I wouldn't listen - No... I didn't want to listen. It's like telling a cigarette smoker that smoking causes cancer; they know that, and yet they still smoke anyway. It's the same with me... I know he's bad for my heart, but I still go for him anyway.
"It's the last time I do this, I promise!" I said to my friends, knowing deep down that it was the farthest thing from the truth. I had made that promise the last ten times already... And I hadn't stuck to it then.
He strolled casually towards me, a sly sexy smile lingering on his lips, his hazel colored eyes twinkling behind the dark rimmed glasses he wore.... My heart was pounding frantically in my rib-cage, it felt as though I had snorted a line of cocaine. My hands were sweaty, butterflies nervously fluttered in the pit of my stomach... I was high on everything that he did and said, feeling as though I had just smoked a joint... Nervous about seeing him, yet feeling relieved to know that he had showed up.... He was a sugar-high I couldn't be without, making my head dizzy with child-like giddiness....
I'm drunk on him... and like alcohol he made my judgment hazy, making me want to say things I wouldn't normally say... My inhibitions low, I fight the temptation to run my fingers through his light brown hair... I become a slave to my habit, feigning for his attention... All the while thinking... He's my drug and I can't get enough of him...
When he's gone, I start to feel the withdrawal kicking in... My body - no... my heart - aches... I was crashing... Guilt and a sense of shame start to take place of the excitement and high I once felt only a few hours ago... Why had I done this? Why had I agreed to see him? I felt remorse, the same kind an individual who had been dieting for months suddenly found himself binge eating...
Like an addict, I always tell myself that I can quit whenever I wanted; however, I know that is not true... I can't quit loving him. The only way to stop this addiction is to go cold Turkey; it'll be like trying to quit smoking, I just stop it... Or maybe, I need love rehab... I'm no longer sure. But maybe a part of me enjoys the rush of feelings I get when I'm with him... I would rather feel 'something', then constantly feel 'numb'. Maybe I'm a masochist; I enjoy torturing myself, setting myself out for a heartbreak... Or maybe I'm just an idiot...
Whatever it may be... I just know that he's my drug...
With that one little word in that simple text message all my resolve melted - I was hooked on him again. Every part of me urged me not to respond to that SMS, but like an addict, my cravings to see him... to be with him... took the best of me. I replied to the message, my body itching all over.
"Gary, don't see him. You know he's a jerk, he just calls you when he wants something. He knows what buttons to push..." My friends repeatedly told me, but I wouldn't listen - No... I didn't want to listen. It's like telling a cigarette smoker that smoking causes cancer; they know that, and yet they still smoke anyway. It's the same with me... I know he's bad for my heart, but I still go for him anyway.
"It's the last time I do this, I promise!" I said to my friends, knowing deep down that it was the farthest thing from the truth. I had made that promise the last ten times already... And I hadn't stuck to it then.
He strolled casually towards me, a sly sexy smile lingering on his lips, his hazel colored eyes twinkling behind the dark rimmed glasses he wore.... My heart was pounding frantically in my rib-cage, it felt as though I had snorted a line of cocaine. My hands were sweaty, butterflies nervously fluttered in the pit of my stomach... I was high on everything that he did and said, feeling as though I had just smoked a joint... Nervous about seeing him, yet feeling relieved to know that he had showed up.... He was a sugar-high I couldn't be without, making my head dizzy with child-like giddiness....
I'm drunk on him... and like alcohol he made my judgment hazy, making me want to say things I wouldn't normally say... My inhibitions low, I fight the temptation to run my fingers through his light brown hair... I become a slave to my habit, feigning for his attention... All the while thinking... He's my drug and I can't get enough of him...
When he's gone, I start to feel the withdrawal kicking in... My body - no... my heart - aches... I was crashing... Guilt and a sense of shame start to take place of the excitement and high I once felt only a few hours ago... Why had I done this? Why had I agreed to see him? I felt remorse, the same kind an individual who had been dieting for months suddenly found himself binge eating...
Like an addict, I always tell myself that I can quit whenever I wanted; however, I know that is not true... I can't quit loving him. The only way to stop this addiction is to go cold Turkey; it'll be like trying to quit smoking, I just stop it... Or maybe, I need love rehab... I'm no longer sure. But maybe a part of me enjoys the rush of feelings I get when I'm with him... I would rather feel 'something', then constantly feel 'numb'. Maybe I'm a masochist; I enjoy torturing myself, setting myself out for a heartbreak... Or maybe I'm just an idiot...
Whatever it may be... I just know that he's my drug...
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