Michael, my ex-boyfriend, has become my drug dealer. But he’s not the only one. So has my “other half” from freshman year of high school. Oh, and the young girl who resided at my father’s friends house that I was supposed to help “steer onto a better path”-similar to how others are trying to do for me now.
At least Michael expresses his disapproval towards my choices through his reluctance to sell to me. My friend merely redirects me to the top quality shit that holds the lowest amount of risk factors so I don’t do too much damage to myself. The young girl is the only one who looks at this for what it really is: a game in which she has sealed her fate. She is up front and blunt with me about her approach, promising the more I buy and the more I help her sell, the more hookups I’ll get. She middle mans like a pro giving me the actual prices as opposed to the sticker price where she gains a profit to form a bond of trust and to secure our ties.
Like a serpent she strikes when she knows my judgment is impaired from her other products, working to make a quick buck off of my eagerness to increase and intensify my high.
It’s unfortunate that I’ve known all of them for the same amount of time but their degrees of compassion vary so much from each other.
River of Consciousness 