There I am, taking it in, shooting up, getting high. The sense of euphoria seeps through into my veins, mixing in with my blood. There it flows through my body, to my brain. I am high. I am high.

Oh the feeling. The feeling that you are so far off the ground, flying up in the sky, soaring like an eagle. You never want to land and be so pedestrian and lose this feeling. I didn’t want to lose the feeling. I couldn’t lose this feeling. I knew it wouldn’t last, but I enjoyed it when it was in my system.

There it was. It was just there. It just happened just like that. It was like any other night, but, unlike any other night, there it was. My drug of choice, beckoning to me. I didn’t intend to use that night; it was highly unexpected. But it was there. A person with such an addictive personality like me, it was hard to turn down. It was like dangling a piece of chocolate candy in front of a toddler and telling it no, you can’t have it. It just never worked.

So I used that night. I used. It was a while since the last time that I’ve used. A long while; a couple of months atleast. The last time was during a friend’s party. I don’t want to count the day after Thanksgiving. That was different. That shouldn’t have happened. I slipped and lost control. This time I fell into it as a willing participant. It wasn’t like the day after Thanksgiving was a forced night. No. It was just something that shouldn’t have happened at all. It shouldn’t have happened.

Things just happened. It just happened like time ticking. It was all natural. Nothing was forced, nothing was fabricated. Things just happen, and that is always the best high one can get.

My drug of choice. Oh, how I love the feeling of being doped up. No pressure, just a relaxed mind state.

There it was. Standing there, just beckoning me. I try to resist at first, but when it comes to this particular brand, you just can’t. It was calling to me. I keep my distance and play it cool. I didn’t intend to use that night. I swear. A couple of minutes later, the first interaction.

From the first interaction, the first taste of what this drug can offer, I was an addict. The first drop of it’s sweet infectious smile just made my skin crawl with desire. I needed this fix. I wanted this fix. I got my fix. From it, I was drunk all night. From it, I was flying high as I’ve ever flown. This drug is like no other I’ve experienced.

I knew it would be bad. Withdrawal would be torture. I knew it, and yet my weak soul desired it. It caved into its desires.

It started with a simple interaction and it just grew into something more. It started with talk so small that it was microscopic, then it grew into something larger than life. It started with her voice and her kind words of “asshole” and her lovely finger as I toyed with this drug.

I could tell this was going to be a shot like no other. I could tell by that moment that it would be something I’ve never experienced. I could tell that I should take it all and not share it with anyone. I could tell that I needed it. I needed it. I desired it.

Then the game started. The small talks, the little touches, the glances that means nothing but that are a part of the game that we were playing. My first taste of this illicit drug. It was sweet.

The sound of her laugh and her angelic whine as I toyed with her more. The more I toyed with her the stronger the effects of the drug. As it got stronger, the more relaxed I got. It was a feeling I never felt before. It is a feeling that I need again.

I didn’t have much to drink this night. It was like the other precious night that I got high. I didn’t get that drunk, had alcohol in me, but not enough to be stupid. No, I needed to be sober to enjoy this. I needed to be clear headed to keep my control. I was drunk off the drug itself, and that was all the buzz that I need. Alcohol will only numb my senses and ruin my experience with this drug. No, I got to keep my wits about me that night. I wanted to enjoy it.

The drug treated me well that night. The lingering glances and the sweet smiles. The little touches that lasts a little longer than it should. The small talks that lead to something bigger to adoration to remarks that kills me oh so softly. There she was killing me softly. She’s killing me, she’s killing me. The drug takes it’s effect and I am willfully under it’s control. The flirtation that gets me high. The flirtation that makes my eyes dilate. The flirtation that makes my night. The flirtation that sets me soaring.

Flirtation. My drug. Flirtation. My drug. Flirtation is my drug. It’s what gets me high.

The pusher that night was like any other that I’ve met. The pusher that night was the type of girl that I long for. The pusher that night was exactly my type. But there’s one fatal flaw. She doesn’t like penises. I have a penis, so I know it wouldn’t last. But I’m weak. I have no will power and besides, I’m a masochist. I know I will hurt miserably afterwards. I know the withdrawal will be painful, yet I took the hit.

There she was, beautiful and cute. Strong willed and independent. Smart and fun; a wild child like no other. She was willing to give me a shot, and let me take this drug with her.

Again, talks lead to jokes lead to laughing, lingering touches and glances, and closeness. I was soaring through the sky, falling upward and upward from this feeling of elation that this flirting, that she, gave me. I knew I was going to be in pain, but I didn’t care. I went with it. I just let things happen, and it just did. I didn’t force it, or ask for it, it just happened.

As the night progressed and the games got longer, the more she kills me with her soft words. Her sweet adoration of my cuteness, the declaration of my coolness, and the inquiry about my non-existent sister. She hoped I had a sister and wished that she was like me. Unfortunately I don’t have one, and if I did, I would hate my sister with the utmost intensity because she’s with this beautiful pusher.

Giving up on my sister, she wished that I were a girl, so she could take this high to another level. Oh I wished things were different. If she wasn’t a lesbian or if I wasn’t a man. But sometimes things just don’t work out that way.

I was drunk on this flirtation and I’ve gotten so deep I couldn’t just stop things. I was addicted. I let things go on knowing that I would pay for it later. The withdrawal would be painful, but I didn’t care.

I was high and she was sitting on my lap, she was sitting on top of me. She would tease me with her stares and little touches and adorations bringing me deeper into her drunken state. I didn’t care. This flirtation was like no other I’ve experienced. It is a drug that I can only take once in a lifetime cause anymore, I would definitely be in more trouble than I was.

She sits on top of me as I sit waiting for my turn to bowl. She sits on top of me as I just wait. She sits on me as I just sit. She’s there constantly giving me what I want.

Her constant dancing and wiggling and tempting just makes my skin crawl. I know I’ll regret it, but I really don’t care. She’ll come up to me after I’m done or even during my little turn at the lanes and she would just be herself. Her flirtation just makes me high. I would grab her and hold her as I make my way back to the chair and there she would follow and use me as her chair.

I’m a whore for attention and she was there to give me the attention that I needed and I was there to give her the attention that she desired. She needed the attention that night like I needed the attention. We were two kindred spirits knowing what the other needed and we offered it to each other whole heartedly.

Oh how she killed me with her words. That hurt the most. That was the thing that made me know I would be in pain later. Her soft kind words. Her adoration for my cuteness and how she wished I was a girl so she would kiss me then. Oh, how I wanted to be that girl that she wanted. Oh how I wanted to be hers, but in my sober state, I knew better. But in my sober drunkenness I gave into her games knowing what will happen afterwards.

So the evening went on. She on top of me, telling me not to get excited. I tell her I won’t unless she moves a lot and being the expert flirt and fun girl that she was, she moved a lot. She’s killing me. She’s killing me oh so softly.

The night progress and things continue the way they were going. I was high on the flirtation and she was enjoying it as much as I was. She leaned in wanting to say something, she leaned in wanting to tell me “not to get any ideas”. I wasn’t. I honestly wasn’t. I knew what the night was to be and I just let things be. I didn’t make it more than it was, but I know deep inside that it would hurt. I can’t get attached like I usually do.

The night went on and on until it was another year. The night went on a little longer and so did the games.

Withdrawal. Withdrawal is a bitch, a painful castration that I knew I would suffer. Now I’m a bitch for her. The insomnia and the constant images of the night and our little games. Her constantly on my mind. The remnants of the flirtation that would last for a few days more. It was a painful couple of days. In the coldness of the night, it was the memories that kept me warm. It was hard to detach from her, from the flirtation, from the night, from the memories, from the game, from the drug. It was hard.

It wasn’t until yesterday when most of her was out of my system. The obsession is gone, but the memories still remain. My heart is free from this drug. It still desires it, but my heart has more control now. It is sober. The memories are enough to keep it beating. Soon, the memories will subside and my heart will beat coldly again. It will be a few days more, then it would be over. She will be completely out of my system.

Now I’m left feeling empty and cold. No desire for anything. It works better that way. Detox. Getting her out of my system. Mild depression is a slight side effect of the whole detox program. It comes with the game and I was prepared for it. In a few days I’ll be back to my normal self. In just a few more days then I’ll be free.

Flirtation. My drug. Flirtation. My drug of choice. The touches, the glances, the lingering feelings, the talks, the games, the laughter. The whole process of connecting with someone you hardly know. The fun night of natural progression. The drunkenness I get from flirting is a high that I sorely miss. It is my drug, my drug of choice.