Smokin Section

I love people who are nothing like the ordinary. The ones who were riding their bikes and skinny dipping and collecting pebbles while everyone else was where everyone else was. People who are raw and chaotic. They won’t know what to say in a conversation but they’ll tell you the physical properties of all nearby planets or play you an instrument or read you their favourite poem. They’ll show you versions of themselves in minute details and roll up their sleeves so you can see their scars. When they speak, they unknowingly say things that awaken an echo in you. When you look at them in the eye you can tell that they’ve been through more than most, but they’re wild and unapologetic, and they will look you in the eye. When you tell them your secret, they’ll treat it like a flower and put it behind their ear. I love people like that, and how could I not? They carry the kind of magic I’ve never seen before; they’ll untie their hair, shake it loose and make you fall in love with them. They’re so beautiful it’s impossible to believe the whole world isn’t pulled toward them the way you are, but because it isn’t so, it makes those people that much more special.

The timing wasn’t wrong. Who we were at the time was wrong.

The worst part about anything that’s self destructive is that it’s so intimate. You become so close with your addictions and illnesses that leaving them behind is like killing the part of yourself that taught you how to survive.

Heroin

My dear sweet girl. You take on so much. You feel things so deeply. But you will be happy, my darling. You will shine.