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The room was dark. I could not see anything. I could not hear anything, but my heart. I was scared to turn the lights on. I was scared to meet the reality.

I sit on the floor for couple minutes and reached for his cold hand. All the memories started to run through my mind like an old movie. I didn't know if angels or demons were here right now. All I knew was that my heart was broken, that as hard as I tried I could never help him, because he never wanted to help himself. He was an addict. I spend the last two years with him and I saw him dieing little by little. I was blaming myself for everything. Maybe I should have tried harder. My heart belongs to him and now when he is gone, my heart is gone too. I don't know if I could ever get over it. He had his addiction, but mine was him. He just let me down.

My emotions are so mixed. I am sad, mad, confused, misunderstood and angry with him. He was special, but he didn't realize it. He had a life but he didn't want to fight for it. He just lost control and let the drugs rule everything that he ever was, everything that he ever had. He chose his destiny and it was easy exit for him. He used to say: "Days are all the same and I already found out the reason to live. Now I want to reach the Gods. I want to reach different worlds". I never knew what he was talking about. Are the drugs a reason to live? I just hope that he is in a better place, somewhere where he always wanted to be.

Now when he is gone I wonder what is better, to be addicted to drugs or to another person? It looks like is better to be addicted to drugs, because they will always be with you when you need them, but when you need somebody to brighten your day, to make you happy, you will always be miserable and this was my mistake. I felt like I am all alone on the world. His friend, the drug, was my enemy, my worst nightmare. I knew there is going to be tomorrow for me. I knew I have to learn to live it without him. I knew that our lives are so limited and we have to fight for our dreams every single second. I could taste my tears. They are salty like my sadness and bitter like my anger. I didn't want to blame him. I didn't want to blame myself. He made his choice to die. I made mine, to be the master of my life.

Learn more about this author, Lili Gordon.
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