S. was my best friend before the shit hit the fan. He was my partner in crime and confidant. I knew when I met him I’d get into trouble because the two of us together would feed into each other’s chaos and mischief, but I couldn’t resist.

He was beautiful the way a man can be without losing a single ounce of his machismo. I was hooked on the sex then hooked on the love, then it all grew dark and mad when I got hooked on meth with him.

I have trouble remembering a big chunk of our relationship but it is still in there burned into the deep recesses of my subconscious identity.