you.

I KNEW SOMETHING WAS WRONG THAT NIGHT WE SLEPT on the beach. Part of you was gone, replaced by a stranger who only cared about getting high. I tried to get you to talk—about your family, your friends, the cancer, anything—but you were closed up so tight I felt like I was scraping at concrete with my fingernails. You finally gave a little, but you stayed so vague, giving me tears but no details. And then you kissed me, as if a kiss would wipe away your sadness, as if it would distract me from my mission to discover the source of it. And it did. And that shames me.

The next night, you were even worse. It’s like you were becoming transparent, threadbare. I had the feeling you were going to disappear any second. I didn’t want to get high, didn’t want that to be the only thing that brought us together, but I smoked with you anyway because I knew you’d do it without me, even as I sat there next to you, and I couldn’t bear to see you getting high alone.

Had we ever been sober together? I can’t even remember.

It felt so familiar. Your distance and my desperate yearning to reach you. The feeling of running and running and never getting any closer. You were so much like David, so lost to me. I could feel you going down the same road as he did. I could feel myself following you. And even though you were there with me, even though our bodies were touching, I suddenly felt so alone. And being lonely when you’re with someone is the worst kind of loneliness.

I was so torn when you threw yourself at me. My body wanted you. God, how it wanted you. But my heart wanted something else, wanted the part of you that hid inside your body. I could tell you weren’t really there. The light was gone in your eyes, replaced by something dark, frantic, terrified. I know it wasn’t me you wanted in that moment. You wanted the distraction of my body. You wanted to use me like a drug. You wanted my body to get you high.

As hard as it was, I managed to say no. I know you were hurt by my refusal. You thought it meant I didn’t want you. How could I possibly explain how untrue that is? How could you not see that my stopping was proof of how much I love you?