Eventually, the pain of waiting for texts from the drug-person outweighed the highs. I said my final goodbye. I blocked him on my phone. I then went through a period of grieving much deeper than I ever went through in quitting the drug-person before. I cried about deaths that happened fifteen years ago. I cried about having to grow up. (FYI: It’s probably never really about the person you think you’re obsessed with. It’s about old pain.)
