“Adderall” leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

When I hear, “Adderall,” I think of the art show and how, when I hugged you, I felt warm sweat soaking your shirt. The entire time we showcased our work, you did not cease shaking. My mother, who once adored you, asked me if you were feeling okay. I did not want to answer.

How do you not understand that I cannot feel safe in the arms of an earthquake?

“Why is 12:34 A.M. important to you?”

He looked me in the eyes through a phone screen and gave me a bedtime. He, younger than me, demanded for me to take care of myself. I loved his consideration.

His consideration is something that I would have died without. If he had not checked on me at the house party where I overdosed, than I never would have been able to apologize for causing trouble. Holding onto him felt like holding onto a precarious life raft.

Holding him then was no different than holding him at the art show or as I nearly died in his best friend’s bathroom. His eyes, always kind, never changed despite the things he had seen. People said that he is malicious. I said that he is misunderstood.

“How can you stand up for a monster?”

Monsters are created. Anything created can be transformed. I have been touched by his light and scarred by his dark. I defended his life as if mine was tied to it.

I used to tell him to consume happiness in bite-sized pieces. I told him that, one day, he would feel full. I told him to stop rushing things; that time is not real. I told him that bright lights are not always blinding.

I told him that he will always have a piece of my heart.

He told me that he did not want it.

Years later, I have forgotten the taste of his kiss. I no longer desire the security of his embrace. My brain has stored away all of the memories that once held me afloat as well as the ones that haunted me long after he left.

I have learned to not tremble when touched.

Featured art: Unknown