The precise second it takes them to not recognize you, like you're a glitch in their memory…that's a high all its own. a weird ghosting. but the ghost isn't me. and i can see it in their eyes, the fear that maybe they're the ghost, maybe they never even knew me, maybe all of it was just chemical anyway. feels good, and it's poison. Ray would tell me to get to a meeting or do something productive. to focus on the spring, the fucking new growth. But the air tastes like victory, not lilacs. just…victory.