because he needs me to be better than a drug addict to fall for me, and he wants to fall for me. he likes me. he thinks i’m funny. he thinks i’m kind, bless his heart. but i’m not a special type of drug addict, not some innocent who accidentally fell arm-first into a needle. i’m not a bad person, either, just an addict. and i’m looking into his eyes which are searching for excuses i don’t have. i’m not a heroic survivor of tragic circumstances. i don’t know what to say. 