“Come! Come and dance with me,” she said in her sweet voice. I was overpowered by the gentleness of her when we began to dance. We made a marvelous couple on the dance floor. She was dazzling! She made me feel good and as we danced I held her close not wanting to let her go for I had never met such a soothing beauty.

With snow colored skin, radiance shined across her face. I had a lot to learn and thought to myself, “She will be the perfect teacher.” For the rest of the night we danced face to face.

When morning arrived she wasn’t with me and I felt cheated, so cheated. I cried for her, my girl in white; I cried tears of loneliness. I missed her, although I had just been introduced to her. Bewildered, I wondered if this was what love is truly all about? The feeling I had made me tingle from head to toes. She aroused feelings in me I hadn’t remembered were powerful; not only those of a sexual nature, but also of completeness, strength, and joyousness; not to mention that she made me aware I was righteous.

I called upon her once again. We embraced throughout the day. When night fell, I watched her lying by my side and reached over to touch her; she awakened when she felt me and begged me to hold her tightly.

She had me fixated and rapidly became my lover nearly daily.

Now and then I asked her to take a break from me. Those times were good. Necessary.

Yet, when I felt so good, seemingly out of no where and for reasons unknown to me, a sudden, powerful urge grasped me; I knew I had to call her once again.

I’ve never met anything that had so much power over me and was as loyal. She never changed. She always gave me more when I wanted more of her. We were lovers through and through. For all time - I thought.

I was so carefree, peaceful, happy, courteous, and loving that people wanted to be with me and when I wasn’t dancing with her, I gave friends my time - otherwise that time was for her: My life was hers to have.

She began demanding more time from me, and although I didn’t want to give her that much of my time, it was all so subtle I didn’t know what hit me.

I danced with her. How I loved to dance with her. She made my life all worthwhile.

I often danced with her so much that my strength would be sapped, but my thoughts were all devoted to her. Those times I stayed home and lay in my bed, not really caring if the world went right on by me.

I knew I had a lover dressed in white that was true to me through and through.

When I needed her she was always available - anytime - day or night. We spoke gently and our caresses became more frequent. I never wanted to part with her; she gave me such brilliance; such powerful passion that I gave it away to many women. When I cheated on her I found she didn’t like it at all. She demanded even more of me. She got all of me.

One day a wonderful friend came over for she hadn’t seen me in a long, long time. When she saw me she began crying. I had no idea why she was crying and told her, “Hush, don’t cry. I don’t like tears.” She said I was thin and unkempt and asked what had happened to me. I told her nothing was wrong - everything was perfect as could be. I knew I was lying to myself, but my lover wouldn’t let go.

When my friend said that I was dancing with the devil that was dressed for a wedding, I became angry. She had hit me in the face with the truth and I knew it. Yet, she was wrong! My lover was no devil! She was good to me: She gave me peace. She gave me love for myself. She gave me the time to have short term loves in my life.

I don’t have my friend any longer.

I needed help to get my lover out of my system.

It took months of hard work, very hard work: Blood, Sweat, and Tears.

For the first time in a long time I had to face myself. I had to look into the mirror and say, “This is me. You allowed this to happen. You thought you were stronger than the devil.”

I apologized: made amends they call it, to everyone I had ever hurt while dancing with the devil.

I no longer dance with her. However, if I wanted a slow dance; a fast dance; one dance or a lifetime of dances; she would be there.

My savings account has grown to limits I never knew existed, at least not in my life. I have a life now. I don’t throw it away any longer on the snow white devil. I married her for a long time; too long, but I don’t want her to ever return. She nearly destroyed my every fiber, my every cell.

Let me tell you about her:

She is evil I know that now.

She is no stranger to the world and has been around for centuries. Every single day she dances naked or fully clad and kills many. Maiming or killing brain cells, homes, schools, bodies of people from all walks of life this Mistress doesn’t care, she has no feelings.

She is cold.

The odds are you have met and adored someone who has been caressed by narcotics or are making love to her: the devil dressed for a wedding. She handcrafts a drastic disease, causing altered rational thinking in the minds of some of the most brilliant people of society - her targets have no social status. She doesn’t care how much money they have; she knows they will get enough to buy her favor. They may be lawyers, businessmen and women; blue-collar workers; unemployed, or school children of all ages -- they will all stoop to any measure to touch her. They want her and beg for her.

Euphoria is one of the big lies she sells by the hands-full. People will crawl to meet her at god-forsaken places. They will drive in their Jaguars to touch her in some dark alley. They don’t care if they may get their brains blown out. The people who are in love with this expensive partner are bold, daring, and think they are indestructible.

When they hold her and ingest her in one way or another, she grins at her pusher who is smiling within while patting his wallet which is fat from others who had been lined in a row anxiously awaiting their turn.

The Mistress and the pusher know the student will return for another lesson. The students have no age barriers; there is no particular slot for any of her victims. They all have a single thing in common: Drugs.

Hated by communities, these victims are so riddled with the disease of addiction they fall prey to the devil and her dealers. Friends are no longer a part of their lives for they have destroyed relationships with most all friends they had. They have destroyed most all family they had. They beg, borrow, and steal money to buy more of this slut.

People often remark, and I’m sure you may have heard the expression, “They sold their soul to the devil” - in these cases she is the devil. A lot of her victims no longer own much in the way of material possessions. Many men and women literally sell their bodies to buy crack.

She leaves families homeless. Work may be spotty until the disease ridden bodies drag their way into a social service building to beg for help. The ravages of snort are obvious. When they receive their help checks in the mail that are given to them by you and by me; they go back and snort and sniff, shoot her up their veins, load cigarettes, watch as she burns from a glass container. They drink her by the gallons. Spray her. They love to look at her lying on a mirror. They want her in all ways. They haven’t made love to the devil in too long, so they think.

Her pushers make billions to buy more of her.

She is under the fingernails of a patient lying on a gurney in the emergency room of a hospital who is unable to speak from a stroke she gave him as a parting gift. She is in the bellies, and the yellowed blown out livers of her victims. She can be seen oozing out the corners of a child-like mouth of a once vital youngster.

She looks down with coldness at the body of a tiny baby; a child, or their parent lying on a stainless steel tray as they are being slid out of their hiding place in a drawer for identification by screaming family, and she doesn’t give a damn.

I call her murderer. She murders people from the womb until death do they part.

She doesn’t cry at funerals. You can be sure that if you are handing over your money to her pimp-daddy she will not go to your funeral either. However, keep in mind that the money monger or his sidekicks may be there waiting for your family, if they go to your funeral, to pay up your debt. As a matter of fact it is most likely few will tell you good-bye or cry at your funeral - you died a long time ago.

Written for you with deep compassion,
Marian

Have a reflective day.

Don’t do drugs - you’re killing someone who is worthy of being helped up - YOU. They say it will be hard for you to try to recover, but think about others: Tiny infants to adults with cancers of all types; people with diseases of mal-formation in any manner: blood cells, veins, bones, skin, organs, and combinations of all or any. They have it hard. They are afraid. You may be afraid to stop using because you don’t want to hurt. Don’t turn to your drug of addiction to ease your fear. Get help.

Go on, try. At least try to get help from a rehabilitation center; from groups; a counselor; from within your being - and most important of all: From your higher power.