April 29, 2010
Addiction. One word, simple; yet holds an astronomical amount of weight. I was an addict. Not to drugs, no. Not to alcohol either. I was addicted to him.
The first time I saw my addiction was in second semester of Spanish I of my freshmen year. I expected everything to be the same. Same quirky teacher, same lame jokes, same routine. I like routine. However, things were not the same. Trying to be discret, I took him in. Muscular build, tall - probably about 5'10" - curly brown hair that stuck out from underneath is Carolina Tar Heels hat, some facial scruff, and chocolate brown eyes. Oh, how I would come to love those eyes.
As I came to find out through the grape vine, aka the freshmen class, he was a sophomore. He was also a class clown and he was not exactly considered a "good kid". That didn't stop me however. I wanted a change, I wanted something new and I wanted to be his.
One of my favorite song lyrics comes from the country group Sugarland. "They say the first time won't ever last/But that didn't stop me the first time he laughed/All my friends tried to warn me the day that we met/Girl don't you lose your heart yet/But his dark eyes dared me with danger." And that's excatly what happened. Over the course of the next month we became freinds, even though I was falling for him. Complete and utter, head over heels, no holding back, one giant leap, fall. Three days after his 16th birthday, he finally asked me out. Now, we had hung out before, but not by ourselves. Ok, well, TECHNICALLY we weren't by ourselves, his parents drove, but still this was different. This was the first night we kissed.
You know how adults always talk about great kisses/kissers? Well, he was one of these great kissers that I will probably talk about forever. His soft lips pressed against mine. Soft, careful, carressing, yet strong and passionate. One hand held my face to his, the other on the small of my back keeping me from fainting. The scruff of his facial hair scratching against my soft skin. I could smell his cologne on him. And when we would pull away, those eyes capitivated me. I could look into those eyes for an eternity. He was everything I ever wanted.
The next two months were bliss. I loved him and he loved me. He told me all the time. But, it only lasted two months. We fought all the time. About how my best friends were guys, or how he didn't like my friends or how they didn't like him. This ultimately tore us apart, as we were both stubborn as mules. You know that scene from The Notebook? The one where Allie and Noah was fighting in the street and Noah grabs Allie to kiss her? This was how we fought. Just as passionate. However, we didn't end up like Noah and Allie, no matter how much I wanted it.
The next four months were a living hell. Break up, talk, get back together, fight, break up again. Over and over and over again. This cycle forever changed me. But, I was addicted to it and didn't want it to end. Despite all the harsh words, fights and break ups, I still loved him.
And then I did something that I ultimately knew would connect him to me forever. I slept with him. I was 15. He was 16. Behind our parents backs and under their roofs. It was the change I wanted. I was his and he was mine. Forever. Or so I thought.
But he was not the same man I once knew. His character changed, along with his personality, and the way he acted and treated me. One month later, to the day, he broke up with me. For good. We never got back together as a couple. But, we stil talk. It's strained; forced. We talk because I am addicted. I am addicted to his voice. The smell of his cologne. The way his arms fit around me. The way just one touch from him can calm me even from my most fitful tantrum. And his eyes. I made myself addicted to him. Our "relationship" that we have now, if you can call it that, is no where near where it used to be. Relationships come and go, but addictions? They last forever.

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