It appears I have an emotional heroine addiction: that's what a newly found friend of a friend told me, at a party.  Jeez, it's a damn good thing she straightened me out about that--I thought I was in love...relating to my soul mate on a very intimate level, in fact, our relationship seemed to become more deeply intimate each time we spent together.  And then he disappeared for over two weeks...

I searched my brain for the last thingy I shared with him--was it "Oh, we have a much deeper connection than you even realize" or "You know I really loved when you said to me about your mother--'let's have you meet her on our own terms...' or maybe it was "I found the birthday card I want to give to you" (when your birthday is months away).  Somehow, I can't wrap my brain around it (or my broken in a million fucking pieces heart, for that matter) and I remember what you told me, months ago, "Why even go there--you're just going to drive yourself crazy..." when I wondered where you were and why you didn't show up, like you said you were going to.  Why, ohhh why, do I fall for the guys that are  Peter Pans?  Are they the only ones that are so much fucking fun?  Why can't I find a guy who is playful, intelligent and responsible.  Is that too much to ask?

So this woman at the party, Nora, tells me that because I'm on such a high when he and I are together (well, mostly because we smoke a bowl, usually) that it becomes an addiction (well, duh) similar to heroine.  She was reading that the chemicals in our body that this love-high conjures up are the same chemicals that heroine produces.  Hmmm.  Well.  Fuck.

Somehow, I don't think this is a good thingy.

I vascilate between letting him go, altogether and cradling my smashed pieces heart in my open hands.  Meanwhile I've even dated a couple of guys (I know, I'm fast in this arena); unfuckortunately, they don't even come close to "the estranged one."  Not even marginally-fucking close.  

 Although one guy is a possibility because: he behaves fairly responsibly, is responsive to my emails, etc. and is a grrrreat kisser.  He's also intelligent and playful, although not nearly as playful as "the one."  Maybe because he's more "grown-up?"  Still...can't seem to forget the amaaazing times we've had, each one more magical than the next.  No one has made me laugh so silly or feel so loving.  No one has brought out that best in me, not the way that you have...or made me feel so fucking fantastic when you're around me.  I don't get it, really.  I mean, I realize he's probably petrified of committment, yet can it possibly be that I am the only one feeling these thingys?  Hardly, when you tell me you love me too, that you are committed to me and our relationship, that I am a gem and your muse, that you are falling, like mwah.  What gives?  

When I mention what other people say and you tell me it's just talk and not true, when you tell me how loving my touch is, when you hold me all through the night, seeking my body just to be near and to touch and be touched--how can that all be a lie?  How can something that feels sooo fantastic not be the truth?

 Please.  Spare me the truth, if it's different than this.  (I guess you already are, by not calling/responding and I need to thank you.  Thank you.)  And just call me lovesick chick.  I'm the one with my arms wide open, my heart splattering across the floor and the faith that never, never, never

gives up.

Ever.