Let's Play A Game With Happy And Sad Music

There's nowhere to start, and everything to say. I've heard people describe drugs in ways that make me nervous, make me envious, but how is it that I made it to 20 without letting myself go to that place? I don't remember everything I said. I don't remember most of what I did. I was pretty far gone. But I kept myself on earth, and it was all for him and the way when he said something, it was exactly what I was thinking. Now I'm having withdrawals, from the high and from him. All weekend, we'd stay on the same page, laugh at the same jokes, and it was comforting and crazy. I wanted to hold his hand and kiss every one of his fingertips. God, I miss being a teenager. I miss that high from feeling lust and like come together and hit you in the face. I completely reset my body and didn't eat for almost five days. I lost nine pounds. I found myself on Mars and laughed and laughed because I didn't want to come down. But the come down was so great, too. Now I've been sleeping and sleeping and missing him like I can't even describe. It's crazy, like he said. We're soul twins, maybe. I think we could be very best friends in another universe. But in another universe, I'd never be good enough. Never. I didn't want to eat, I didn't want to sleep. I felt amazing and my feet wouldn't touch the ground. And to think that he was okay with just being there with me and nothing else, that makes me happy. And to think that he thought my jokes were funny and called me pretty. That makes me happy, too. He liked my music and I liked his music and I'm pretty sure I lost and found myself this weekend. I'm pretty sure. It's all because of him. I wish I could focus on other things, on that pretty girl who makes me so defensive and angry, or on the people at work who asked me all morning if I was okay and said I didn't seem like myself, or on the fact that I haven't spoken to my mother in almost a week. I'd love to be able to focus on those things. But, really, I couldn't if I tried. I mean it when I say I lost myself. And now I can't eat. I can't, I don't want to, I just want it to be the weekend again so I don't have to think about not eating. I've been sleeping a lot to make up for it, but that's okay because no one's texting me, and no one's IMing me, and I'm not worried. Other people are worried about me, and that in itself is pretty funny. I'm not. I'm not worried at all. I know I'll be okay, and I know I'll land back on Mars in no time at all. Jesus, I love my life. And I love how easy it is to escape it. Woah-oh-woooah-oh, woah-oh~.