The diary of the lover of a drug addict.

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I thought about my life, with my legs dangling in the swimming pool, while smoking a cigarette. My life had changed. I had changed. The smoke full of nicotine, leaving my mouth in rings, was the clear proof of that. I smiled and extinguished the cigarette by smashing it with my palm on the ground beside me. Oh, how I used to loathe smoking.

My thoughts got disturbed when suddenly the phone in my back pocket buzzed and my automatic speaker called out the caller ID. It was Jack. I sighed and kept on ignoring the ringing. I had been thinking to leave him since a month or two. It was such a hard thing to do for me and therefore I wasn’t able to gather up the courage to do it. The thought itself, as well as the summer breeze blowing around me, made me shiver. I wrapped my arms around me and sniffed. I never thought I could be this weak.

What was now to leave, anyway? Nothing was left to leave anymore. He had given up upon us a long time ago. We were just ‘best friends’ now. He had broken up with me. because he had become a drug addict and thought I didn’t deserve him anymore.

His love for drugs more than me. Sometimes. I could never give him the joy and pleasure, the magic potion he injected into his veins every day, did. I hated myself for that. He was still in love with me and needed me more than ever. How I could I leave him this easily?

He used to be a different person. He never was as emotionless as he was now. He used to tease me and laugh with me. We used to compete with each other in basketball matches as well as school exams. Teased each other for being more cheesy. Danced on “there is a light that never goes out” and stole a few kisses. We were so unlike the teenage couples in our grade, The thought made me smile.

I did hate him, at times but I never regretted anything. I had a firm belief in the saying: “Never regret anything that once made you happy.” Once? He had made me the happiest. Every single day. I had the best of times with him. How could I, ever, reject that?

I just knew I had to leave him. I had all the words in my mind now, for the final goodbye. I wiped the tears travelling down my cheek, took out my phone and dialled Jack’s number.

“Hello, Cara?” Oh my god, I can’t wait to tell you what happened today.” He exclaimed. I nodded even though he could not see me. He was so excited to even hear my reply and kept on telling me about his basketball match. “Trust me, you are lucky to have the best basketball player as your best friend and…” he carried on. He had always been good at basketball. The best, in fact. I smiled. I wasn’t hearing what he was saying anymore. I cut the phone.

Although I knew what I wanted to say, at the important time I could not open my mouth. I was like his only friend. He told me everything. Shared everything. Who would be there for him if I left? Who would he share his sorrows and joys with? The answer to all those questions was no one. That scared me.

Oh, how I wished I had just another teenage crush on him and was not in love with him. I was his cure. He was my disease. I was saving him while he was killing me.

I walked back to my home as the sun had set. My phone was ringing and my thoughts were in a haze while I was laying on my bed, trying to concentrate on my book. It was funny how I used to love reading so much and now, even it didn’t interest me anymore.

I didn’t know what had struck me, but I shut the book and put it down. I picked up my phone and dialled Jack’s ID.

“Heyyyyyy Cara….” he slurred. I knew he was drunk. I would even miss his drunk calls, later. At that moment I knew I had to do it. I had to leave him. I had to leave him in order to live. I had to be selfish for this one time. I had to live. Not only for me but for the people who still cared for me and could not see me destroy myself.

I was on the verge of crying but somehow I managed to gather up the courage to leave him. I sighed.

“Goodbye, Jack. I hope you have a nice life ahead.” I never waited for his reply. I threw away the phone, which, fortunately, broke. I had left him. I had finally done it. My eyes welled up realizing what I had done.

I did not leave the house for a week. A week later, I bought a ticket to Australia and left. I have to leave this town, city and even the country, I thought. I could not resist the place I had have so many heart-wrenching memories in, anymore.

It was time to start a new life. I told myself. But, would I, ever, be able to erase these beautiful yet heartbreaking memories from my mind? That was what I did not have an answer for.

Author’s note: Wrote a story for the first time. Well, this is the last extract to a long story. Would you believe me if I tell you I wrote this in my English exam? Haha, I still don’t. I was sorta blank and had no idea what to write so well this idea popped in my mind. And guess what? I scored the highest in this part of my exam. Still, astounds me. I was rather expecting a psychological class after this, to be honest. This is a personal favorite. I hope you like it too!

Till the universe resurrects.

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Author’s note: Author’s note at the start this time just to warn you for good. Don’t read this if you have a tendency to break over past memories. I hope you will like it. Not really one of my best. Thank you.

Who says we will break apart and never confront each other?

Who says we would leave each other and the paths of our lives will never intersect again?

Because I know they will, again, everyday.

Our lives would intersect each other’s when our thoughts would collide everyday, at the same time.

While I am pouring coffee at work I might remember how your eyes used to crinkle everytime you smiled. Smile a little at the thought and spill steaming coffee on my hand. I don’t think the burn would hurt so much.

You might someday, while taking a morning walk, remember how we used to make fun of each other, knowing all along how no other better individual existed in either of our lives. Maybe the thought will make you smile and sigh loud enough for me to hear even when I am miles away.

We will confront each other every night. In our weakest and naked forms. When we lie awake, cursing at life and destiny; deep down knowing it was us who ruined it.

I perhaps always will miss the coarse touch of your smooth hands on my waist.

You also may possibly yearn to hear my voice one day and miss how I would scream at you when you made me angry, because my love, I did care.

I will always long for you till my last breath.

I will crave to hear your voice every night at 2 am when I am laying awake all alone.

I will love you till the day my existence and this universe resurrects, darling. That day, I promise, I will move on and start a new life once again.

Drugged me into the scariest nightmares.

3rf She lays there in the corner, Flowers in her hair and rings through her lips; She counts days with every cigarette smoked, The smoke escaping her lips is pure divine; She thinks she’s the ash that crumbles down, But what she does not know is that she is the nicotine that makes you want her more. Author’s note: It was a short, 2-minute poetry for a close friend.

He was my destination and my devastation.

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The love of my life,

Sweetness poisoned;

I want to wrap my arms around you,

Embrace you for what seems like forever;

Listen to your violent heartbeat and shallow breaths,

You smell of my favourite cologne with a hint of cigarettes;

I want to whisper beautiful yet deadly things through your ear and pray they enter your heart,

To let you know how perfect you are;

But for once, I want you to listen to my heart too,

Listen to my breaths too;

But how will you ever, listen to a heart that never beats and a corpse that never breathes?

Author’s note: A personal favourite. I hope you like it!

She was a miracle that happened to me.

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Her slithering touch. Her gleaming eyes. The way she looked was accompanied with the way she spoke. How could such elegance and beauty be placed on stake of my sensuality? It was a quest of hunger. I could feel the heat radiating through her. The trouble was all mine ever since I laid eyes on her. Who knew I was the victim this time? The criminal was much more prestigious.

Author’s note: Second poetry. Late post. Forgive me.