I call you my addict, even though you were never really mine. The words you spoke assured me you were mine, but everyone knew you loved something else. You loved the high. You loved the drama. You loved the money. There was never any love for me, because I was the one that tried to take you away from it all. I kept trying to save you, and it took me years to realize that you didn't want to be saved.

We were young and dumb when we first were together. You swept me off my feet, but it was for all of the wrong reasons. You were the bad boy, and you were the one I was supposed to steer clear of.

We didn't last the first time, but it didn't really hurt either of us. The second time was different. There was the promise of a future together this time. There was the promise of new beginnings.

You promised me that you would quit. You told me you weren't addicted, and that you could stop anytime you wanted.

How cliche, right? You would stop for small periods of time. Things would be different, and they would be better. Then you would get moody. The moodiness turned to anger, and suddenly no one was safe around you. You would shut the world out, even me. It would get terrifying. You would get violent and threaten. Police would be called, but nothing would ever happen. A few days later, you would reappear. You would be happy again, and we all knew why. We could tell what you had done. The promises became empty, and I quit listening.

I thought I could still help you, though. I could save you. I had done it before. It would just take a lot of persuasion. You were unhappy in your house. You were unhappy out of your house. You were miserable anywhere you couldn't get your next hit. I thought that maybe counseling would help. You needed something other than the drugs you lived for. I thought I could give you something else.

That was what I thought. Unfortunately, you didn't want it. You would get tired of me trying to fix you. It must have been annoying, but I didn't care. The police were getting called more frequently and by more people. Something needed to change. The thing that changed was me. You turned me into an addict too. I didn't want the drugs or the drama. I wanted you to be okay. I couldn't leave, because I was addicted too.

It isn't fair that you made me an addict like you. It wasn't fair that you wouldn't accept any help. It killed me to watch you get destroyed a little more every single day. You weren't yourself anymore. You were an angrier shell of yourself. You didn't care about me anymore. I tried every trick I could think of. Then one day you disappeared. It was over. For me, there was no gentle way to end my addiction. I was forced to end it alone. I hope that yours will end someday. I hope it will end before it's too late, but I can't help you. You were my addict, but you aren't anymore.