These past few weeks have been strange for me. I never thought I would get the chance to be kissed by you, to be held by you, to do any of things we have done as secret lovers. But the truth is, I don't think we can call ourselves secret lovers. I don't know if I like being a secret, and I hardly call what we do "making love".

I like getting high with you. That was all we really had in common, at first. That and Shudder to Think. And poetry. So we started getting stoned together and reading poetry to each other and listening to music together and…eventually…all that lead to kissing and all the things that follow. And I loved and cherished every moment entwined with you.

I decided I'm not going to smoke anymore. I feel like the only time I am normal is when I am high, and that scares me to death. I go to work unstoned and I feel wrong somehow and I have to come home and smoke to be ok again. I hate that feeling, only feeling normal when I'm messed up. I like the old me, the one who didn't need drugs, the one who was happy whether or not she was high. But I don't know if you can handle her. You don't even know her.

Let me tell you about her. She is happy. She goes through mood swings. She's quiet and she's shy…sometimes. She likes to eat string beans cold. She likes watching the Flyers games and talking to the TV. She likes coffee coollattas at Dunkin' Donuts. She likes to go on long drives and think. She likes to write poetry and make people feel what she felt when she wrote it. She talks to babies. She plays with puppies and wants a kitten of her own someday. She gets very sad sometimes and sits alone and cries. She likes to make other people laugh until their ribs hurt. She likes turtles because they are cute and slow. She wants to someday own a Volkswagon Beetle, if that's not too much to ask, and she'd rather have an old one than a new one.

And she doesn't like having sex.

These are all things you may never know, because now that I don't smoke, who knows when we will hang out again. Of all the bonds we had, that one seemed the strongest. But I am starting to learn that bonds like that-no matter how strong-ALWAYS break.

I still think of you during the time of awakening, you are a part of my digital sunrise, my neptune, sleeping giant. Maybe one day you will like me for me and you will write songs for me and say I am the girl you always wanted to take home to mom. But until then, I will merely be:

Your back door girl,