Things seemed different. It was difficult to explain how or why, but I knew that they were. The question that bounced around in my mind was whether or not it was just me. What was the truth at this point? So much time had passed, yet I remembered it all as though it had just occurred yesterday.

The entire summer was spent doing drugs and partying. Before this summer, I had never even smoked a joint. It snowballed out of control during the cool Canadian summer evenings faster than the sun rising ever morning. We did so many drugs, he and I. Harsh drugs, too like MDMA and ecstasy.

Drugs were not really anything I ever wanted to do, but for his happiness, I would do anything. Face first into the dirt with bloodied knees and elbows, I fell for him. That was the truth. As plain and simple as it was. I spent a summer doing drugs with the only man I can ever say I have loved.

Today, I remain only a shadow of his past; perhaps not even that anymore. To be certain, I still loved him, with my entire heart, my entire soul, and my entire existence really.

No one knows it now, but I sheepishly almost died that summer. My body was not built for that kind of drug consumption. Hell, I'd go as far as to say that simply existing was hard enough for my body. Health has never been my master.

It was truly, the best of times, and the worst of times. My entire summer, my first love, and my body all seemed to flash before my eyes now as I sit here currently typing this in a wallowing sorrow. We no longer speak to each other, this man and I. He knows not of my determination to have a tangible product to show for this summer spent so long ago. He knows not of the love that lies now, only within the pages of a novel I wrote just for him. He knows not even, of this love that once was.