I have never had an addictive personality. Trust me, I've experimented and the results were negative. I've picked up the cigarettes, the beer bottle, and the bong, and could never quite see what it was in these substances that people craved. Was it the horrible smell, the awful taste, or the odd way the GHB makes your nerves fire like crazy, leaving you a half conscious, giggling, twitching mess pile on a couch filled with people you could do without ever speaking to. These methods of escaping reality always made me feel more alone. More like I was one among the walking dead of humanity... Recently, it has been confirmed that a newfound addiction has taken hold of me with a firm grip... Yes, I have an addiction. I am addicted to him... Guilty as charged. I am addicted to the quaint little life we have created for ourselves. I am addicted to happiness in its purest and most honest form...I am addicted to the way he violently pulls me closer to him in the middle of the night... the way he drapes his legs over mine... the way he leaves me little notes written in bold colors (because he loves colors) and leaves them around the room... the faces he makes when he is teaching me chords on the guitar... the little laughs he lets out when we're watching south park reruns and eating sushi... His smile is my vessel for escaping reality. And although it may melt my insides, it does no damage to my nerves. Hi, My name is Desiree, and I'm addicted to Josh. (It appears I am also a loser, if you weren't able to figure that out...) -Desiree