Drug

So I sit her down and tell her that this lifestyle isn't sustainable. You can't take a tab of this and two black of that and have that be your Saturday. And of course she doesn't listen, she has a reason for everything. She's young, we're young, I've never really known how to have a good time, things about planes and consciousness and energy and a really green way of talking about something so chemically constructed. And it starts to dawn on me that maybe she's on something even now. That she can't even get to five, four, three, without dipping into those little plastic bags. That even I'm something that has to be altered. And it makes me feel bad, and even though this is all supposed to be about her it's hard to focus on that now.

She draws a line down my leg with her red fingernail, circles my knee, draws it back up. She says what do I really want to do and why am I here and won't I go with her. And I say I won't. But that doesn't stop us from doing what we usually do, and it doesn't stop me from feeling like a piece of shit, and from being one.