You knew I wouldn't be able to forget. If that was you driving by my house today... I saw you, even though your windows are tinted.
If it was you, I am thrilled to know you are doing well and feel confident enough to drive this way.
If it was you, what were you expecting to see? hoping to see?
You first showed me the Bluelight website when we first became friends. You don't come here anymore though.
We can't ever be friends again. We were so bad for each other that even the families noticed. And they never even saw us together.
I miss rolling with you at the university. I miss listening to you play your drums. I miss our relationship even though we were "drug buddies" I guess you would say. You wouldn't say that. You would get defensive probably. You always did get defensive if I described either one of us a drug buddies... it sounds too much like drug addicts, and you hated being called that.
We had such good times sitting in my car listening to music... thank you for the Ecstasy and the time and friendship. I was acting out inappropriately with males for a long while and you listened to my sordid sexual stories. You never judged me, which I loved you for, and you never let me have any physical contact with you which I hated you for.
It's all good. No physical contact between us meant that you, only you, were more intimate with the nature of my soul and only you could take away my loneliness. With the fuckbuddies, I was emotionally lonely, but with you, my drug buddy, I felt wonderfully comfortable, accepted, and normal.
You did a lot for me, dude. Thank you. If that was you that drove by the house, I hope you saw me see you, and I hope the look on my face told you that even though we aren't friends and we never will be, I am not angry.
I am not angry at you. I never was. I wonder if heroin still controls your life. I wonder what you would have been like sober. Like, really sober? I loved you when you weren't sober, I can't imagine what might have been different about you.
I'm sorry everything got so fucked up. I don't know what happened, no one would ever say but something must have happened. Or maybe there was just these two people who were able to make each other smile. They stopped making each other smile one day and that was the end of their friendship.
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Thank you for memories of phone calls, texts, attention, walks, drugs. Thank you for the amazing music, both on your stereo and on your drums. We had moments that were truly golden.
I really hope you don't think I hate you. I am happy that we were so close for so long. I miss having a close personal, nonsexual, manfriend to get faded with and then nod off with. It would be nice to know that you were off of heroin, but no one knows the truth about that except you.
If you quit, really really quit, then I would be pouring tears of relief because you quit. If you haven't quit, then all my deepest feelings of sorrow would be revisited.
Even sober....EVEN sober.... your company was wonderful. Your conversational skills could keep us occupied for hours. Sitting quietly listening to music could keep us occupied for hours. In the little moments, in a single inhalation and a second of eye contact, I knew we had something unexplainable, unacceptable to others, and vital for the both of us, at least for the stretch of time when we were friends.