my name is sara, and i'm an addict. . .
i'm only half way through "fear and loathing in las vegas" as i'm writing this and i've discovered something. no matter how much booze you swallow, pot you smoke, coke you snort, acid you drop, or crank you shoot . . . LOVE is the worst drug of all. and the brain is not only a dealer but a major trafficker in this cartel. love is the true gateway drug. it leads to happiness and euphoria; both great uppers. but it also leads to pain + depression + despair. much heavier things that people addicted to non-harmful *lust* don't need to be dabbling in. i say all this because your drug-trafficing brain (not hear; brain' it's always the brain) makes you fall in love with gay boys. boys, that when you talk about them so dreamily and friends ask why you can't date them, you don't really have an answer. boys you're in LUST with, but can't picture holding their hand, or kissing them, or anything else of an intimate nature. boys, who for no reason, make you sweat at the sight of them and knees buckle during conversation. BOYS WHO PROUDLY WEAR KHAKIS FROM THE GAP!!! but what's worse than being a former addict (i should be up to my two year love-free chip soon) is watching someone in the full clutches of pain, depression, and despair. why can't emily realize that ryan doesn't give two shits about her? emily, i think, is fully addicted to whatever her brain produces when around him. or at least she was and kicking the habit ain't easy. withdrawal is a bitch. he puts these ideas in her head that she's made him a victim when that's the COMPLETE FUCKING OPPOSITE. that motherfucker is slowly ruining my sister. emily wouldn't bow down to anybody, especially somebody's she's dating for shit! now she's like his little mind slave. and i think that sick prick gets off on this mind fuck. so what do you do when someone offers you love? in the immortal words of nancy reagan: "just say no!"