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Water, Love and Drugs

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I've never written anything under such condition. This is my first time ever doing this, writing when I'm completely high and numb and screwed up and dizzy and even though my mind wanders, it ends up thinking about you.

My body veers towards the left, then the right, then it sinks, and then it feels as if I am flying. Not surprising. I'm accustomed to not feeling solid, both when I'm unconscious and sober. The only form I can relate myself to is liquid, perhaps water, as clear and as clean as water - tasteless - somehow you need it because it is essential, and you want more, and more, and more, and more of it. Me, I am water most of the time: tasteless, boring, a walking-dead, a hopeless romantic; but you need me and you only want more of me.

You need me like human need water. Don't get me wrong, I am not a drug. The difference between essentials and drugs is that we do not need drugs. I am what comes after drugs - water for your dried lips, air for your lungs, a bed and a pillow for rest; lust, when you most want it; company, when you are most lonely; love, when you are not born with it.

Now my muscles are tightened. Here comes the eternal laughing. This is the part I hate most, yet, the part that says the most about me. A smile on the face: with teeth showing, I can't stop laughing now. A wound inside my heart: concealed perfectly. A couple of scars on my wrist, my arm, my legs: with denial of once getting hurt too deep. See with your eyes, the girl in front of you is flawless. Look closer with naked eyes, the girl in front of you is a lying b**** who fakes every emotion shown on her face. Feel with your heart, the girl in front of you is ripped and torn apart, broken and rotten inside, on the edge of dying.

She must have had too much of these little demonic drugs. Save her.

Give her water.



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