Euphoria

 The gentle caress of skin, the sweet scent of perfume, it all welcomed him. It called his name, intoxicated him, and lured him into its den. The petal soft lips against his neck, the warm breath tickling his senses. One night with pure, unadulterated ecstasy, it was enough for him. He came back for more, every night he found himself in the embrace of some blissful angel. It always clouded his brain for hours, he’d stumble home under the influence of pleasure, only to collapse in bed to sleep away the last of the buzzing feeling.

He’d wake in the morning with a headache, so palpable and strong he nearly couldn’t walk. He’d walk around in a haze, go to work in darkness. All he could feel was the pull and desire for his nightly lover. The longer it went on, he grew more and more agitated, as the days passed, he couldn’t sit still. His thoughts grew plagued with the memories from the night before. People noticed, but few said anything. He got angry, always exploding at them for questioning his control.

He wasn’t hurting anyone, the nights he spent with his lover were safe, controlled. He never lost himself inside of the feeling, or so he thought till the changes started. Nights that were long and sweet, were now short and bitter. The acrid taste in his mouth never seemed to wash away. Nights of sweet intoxication turned into afternoons of bitter loathsome. He visited her to chase that high, the sweet moments he couldn’t seem to taste. The gentle caresses on his skin now felt like sharp nails clawing away at his body.

He wanted what he had before, the sweet relief and nightly freedom. But he felt trapped now.. Stuck in a bitter cycle of love and hate. Pain and ecstasy. He wanted to be with his sweet lover, so desperately he wanted her back. The longing and chasing would end in a dark, cold twist. A quick ending to a long, spiraling journey. The feeling of accepting had been plagued with judgement and pain all along, but he was too blinded to see it.

People pitied him, the looks they’d give him, the pain in their dark, beady eyes never helped the growing hate in his gut. Did he not see the signs, or was he so painfully aware of it that he chased it harder, and longer. Maybe he met his bitter end on purpose.