I want to party so hard.

All I want to do is party. I want to party so hard it takes three interventions. I want to feel myself slipping away. I want to gasp for breath as I walk through the door. I want to escape my mind, and wander through the labyrinth of my need. I need the smoke, the sweat, the alcohol. I want dimmed lights and a throbbing head. The room is swaying to the radio and I focus on my hand. The never ending feeling, trying to catch clarity that is always just out of reach. I go from one place to the next, in the buzz of people. The beer sloshing out of the cup, the sweet smell filling the limited air. I am addicted to the smell, I feel it in my body. I feel it running through myself. This is what I want. This is all I need. The thoughts are swirling through my mind as I make my way through the crowd. Just me, I think, just me. I snag a cig and fumble for a light. This is it, I swear. The last night of freedom. For now on, I am the picture of sober. I will not find the cigarette that is always there to catch me if I fall, or the beloved plant. I am clear, I am sober, I am craving. "You can't catch me," I whisper to morning. I will not quit. My stomach twists and turns. I need just one more night. I cannot stop. I will not stop. This needs me, and I need it. The craving starts in my stomach, and fills my head. This is me. The wanting, craving, needing monster. We can stay up all night, intertwined, with the alcohol beside me. It is a quick fix, but it fixes me for now. I run into the night, whispering, bit by bit,

"You can't catch me."