My Perfect Girl Or Boy

I’ve come to a major realization today. A realization that completely and utterly terrified me when I thought of it. It was a realization that slithered its way up my spinal cord and into my skull, sinking its fangs and injecting its venom into my brain. It has haunted me ever since I thought of it.

I want someone that I can love as much as I loved drugs.

In five days, it will be seven months since I’ve done heroin. Still though, it haunts me. I miss it, miss it, miss it, miss it more than anything I have ever missed in my life. Miss that feelings of being comfortably numb. Miss that feeling of a warm blanket wrapped around my body. Miss being content with being alone.

I feel so, so alone. All the time. I feel alone when I’m in a group of people. I feel alone during sex. I always just feel so cold and lonely and I’m tired of it. But I will never find the person I truly want.

As the song goes, I want a girl with lips like morphine. I would prefer someone with a kiss like heroin, I kiss the banishes every worry from my mind, that, for even one moment, stops the insanity in my head, stops the thinking, thinking, thinking that I’m always doing, always doing, always distracting me from living in the moment, always forcing me to live in the past and the future. I want someone with a kiss like heroin.

The thinking never stops without me putting a chemical in my body. I will never be normal, be like everyone else, without putting a chemical in my body. All that keeps me even near normal right now is my Bipolar medication. And even it doesn’t work quite as well as its supposed to. Nowhere near as well as its supposed to.

I want someone who makes me feel as good as drugs made me feel. I’m desperately hoping for it. Desperately.