"All your strides to be better are not enough." The subconscious spear of self-disappointment stabs at me. "You," It continues. "are not enough. You're never gonna get anywhere." It insists with crippling strength.

"Don't listen." Freckles of hope whisper in the morning light trickling onto my windowsill. "Look at all the potential in this new day."

"Come on." I think, gesturing to the darkness of my mind that still lingered like second hand smoke. "Keep fueling me. I need an adversary to rise against."

The first thing to erode was the foundation to a handful of beautiful memories. My ability to remember was tragically stunned, like a flower trying to bloom in the throes of winter. Bits and pieces of memories would drift in my mind like snowflakes to a storm, then melt as quickly as they visited. I am devastatingly simple. The halls of my mind are painted white, with a recourse of organization. When the foundation started to diminish, the wallpaper started to detach and yellowed at the edges. The floors were stained with disbelief. Why was this happening to me?

One night, as sleep started to call to me, I heard this peculiar chugging noise-- it sounded like the tired clank of an old car trying to start. That's when I caught a glimpse of the culprit. It's spider-like legs just rounded the corner and it's movement was eerily mechanical. It scared me so deeply that I opened the door to the dreamworld, and hid there.

As I tried to go about my daily life, I could still hear the faint hum of the perpetrator moving around like a fiend—it's fuel being moments of my life most precious to me. Day after day, it grew stronger as my memory deteriorated.

Finally, I decided to be brave and wait for it near the best memory I had left. It's faint trudging chug neared closer (as I knew it would come.) As it approached, it reached out with one of it's many thin, gangly mechanical legs for the last memory I tried to protect. The machine was devastatingly simple-- a medium sized engine rested at it's core and powered it.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked with vehemence.

I felt it looking at me and swear I heard it sigh as it ceased it's pursuit. I neared closer to study it, but did so slowly. It's surface was shiny and new, but it's demeanor was tired. As my face reflected in it's sad eyes, realization washed over me. The machine was a product of my mind, I made it. It wasn't destroying memories to be malicious, it was doing so out of kindness. How could I be depressed if I couldn't remember what happiness was and that I no longer had it? I traced the outline of my last remaining memory and listened to the echoes of it's joy before surrendering it without hesitating and watched the machine eat away.

"I almost feel sorry for them." I say to Adrian, gesturing to the recovering druggies gathering for a meeting across the street from us.

"Come on." He smiles while looking at me. "Everyone has something they can't let go of." He says suggestively.

"Not me. I don't have an addictive personality." I proudly insist. 

I could feel myself sounding arrogant, but I couldn't stop.

"Then take my drug." He took a step closer to me while holding out a package of pills in his outstretched hand, the mist of his visible breath merged with mine in the frigid air. 

In this strange modern world, love was uncommon and became a pharmaceutical concoction-- anyone could make someone love them as long as they drugged them with their essence encased in a pill. 

"It would pass the time of winter break before I need to go back to school again. What if it might even be fun?"I thought.

Adrian always had a thing for me, I never understood why since I was just trying to coast through life on autopilot. 

"Sure." I say as my cold fingers run over his palm. "Why not let me prove you wrong?" I felt a devious smile creep across my face as I took the pills from his hand.

It was easy-- I knocked the tiny pill back with one swig of water at his apartment. I could've even dry swallowed it if I wanted to. Adrian's breathing grew excited as he used the motion of taking the glass from my hands as an excuse to close the space in between us. He watched me intently-- like a predator waiting for the right moment to strike. His pupils pulsed as he leaned in to me. His kiss felt like ecstasy and sent rivulets of rapture to my brain. Suddenly, all my heart knew was the rhythm to a butterfly's wings. 

Days turned into weeks that I needed to see him, I just had to. On that Sunday morning, I washed down the last pill and started to walk to his place, passing all the addicts gathering outside, smoking before their meeting and smiling to myself.

"I don't need any more pills." I thought. "This is the last one and I'll show him that I don't need his love after today."

A look of shock and horror was plastered across his face as I opened his door.

"What are you doing here?" He asked me as if I was breaking and entering.

"What do you mean?" I implored, my heart pounding as my thoughts became nervous energy.

He smiled deviously while approaching me and closing the door behind me while leaning against me.

"That last pill I gave you was a placebo." He whispered in my ear. "I guess we found your addiction after all."