You drop me off after you leave me sore, and I'm smiling like crazy.

I feel like I'm on top of the fucking world when I'm with you and for hours after I see you too.

Is this real love?  I wonder.

I replay my time with you over and over again in my head and I hope you're thinking about me too.

I can never tell with you. I don't know if you feel the same. I don't know if you think about me all the time like I think about you. I don't know if your best days are when you get to see me cause my best days are when I get to see you.

You drive me so fucking crazy and I love it.

I've never felt more alive.

You're like my own heroin.

I'm still smiling when I get into the shower, because I can see the hickeys you left on my breasts. I wash away the smell of weed and alcohol and sex, even though they're my favorite things, and I think.

I think about if I did anything to fuck it up, even though you've been texting me since I stepped out of your car and I love that you do that.

I think about how long we're going to last because you told me once that you would eventually leave me. I told you that I was willing to deal with it.

"I've never felt like this before." I tell my best friend Kameron as we sit in the park later that day. "I always thought I knew what love felt like but everyone before him is so irrelevant to me now."

"Are you sure he's not just a rebound for that guy you were with before?" Kameron says as he scrolls through Instagram.

"Maybe he was at first, but now that I've gotten to know him. . . I can't see myself without him." I tap my fingers on my knee, staring up at the sky. "He made me forget entirely about the guy before him. He's just so different. He's like cookie dough ice cream in a vanilla creamery, you know?"

I glance over at Kameron and he shrugs, adjusting the black snap back on his head. "I just hope he doesn't hurt you."

And I don't answer, because I know you will.

In my mind, it's inevitable because everyone leaves eventually.

I've already accepted that.