(no subject)
It begins when the object of your affection bestows upon you a heady hallucinogenic dose... of something you've never even dared to admit you wanted, an emotional speedball of thunderous love and excitement. Soon you start craving that attention with hungry obsession of any junkie. When it's withheld, you turn sick, crazy, not to mention resentful of the dealer who encouraged this addiction in the first place but now refuses to pony up the good stuff. Goddamn him, and he used to give it to you for free. Next stage finds you skinny, shaking in a corner, certain only that you'd sell your soul just to have that one thing one more time. Meanwhile the object of your adoration is now repulsed by you.He looks at you like someone he's never met before. The irony is you can hardly blame him. I mean, check yourself out. You're a mess. Unrecognisable even to your own eyes. You have now reached infatuation's final destination. The complete merciless devaluation of self. (c)