The lie of euphoria

Festivals.
Nothing more than vast openness, allowing drugs to shift quicker  than a common cold.

Everything about it made me cringe. The deafening sounds. The fact that most of these people went from classy to trashy in minutes.
The lights that made you flinch.
Dust and dirt. The sickening smell of bodily fluids around every corner.
The false pretense that it would be the best night of your life.

And yet, here I was.
Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.
And I knew that. But I still thought this time would be different. This time would be a fun time.
That’s what you promised. A fun time. 

But as the only sober one there, I was just reminded once more that this isn’t what I wanted.
This isn’t where I wanted to be.
But love is compromise, right?
Love is sacrifice and sucking it up. This is what you wanted; so I came along.

Hours and Hours. 
Draining. Deafening. Sickening.
I’ll watch you have the time of your life, as I wonder around with you, hoping for this night to end.
You’re smiling at least; that’s good. That’s the only good thing about this evening.

I know you’ve popped a pill or had a line.
I know you think I don’t know; but I know.
And as I see your friends sneak away into the porter-loos, I wonder if I shouldn’t tag along.
Maybe this is after-all why I’m having such a miserable time.

Maybe my nose needs some powdering.
Maybe then I can be a fun version of me.
Maybe then I’ll be everything you want me to be.

I’ll follow you later, and maybe then you can teach me about this mystical world you often enter that makes the world seem like a good place to be.
I’d like to experience this lie of euphoria as you do.

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