Just another overdose. That's what they said. Just another overdose. They say it as if she was a statistic and not a person. They never knew her. They don't care. I knew her. I loved her. And now she's gone. Just like that. To them she was just another overdose, but to me she was so much more.

She cared about me. She loved me. And I loved her. She taught me to believe in something. She taught me to believe in myself. She taught me to stand up for what I believe in and she was there when I did. Without her I'd be nothing. Without her I'd probably be dead. She was such a beautiful person. She did so much for the people she cared about. Sometimes she just needed an escape from it all. So it wasn't always legal; that's just a technicality. I mean, what are we supposed to do when they won't let us have a way to escape that's legal? We have to escape illegally and hope we aren't caught.

It wasn't exactly suicide. She didn't actively kill herself anyway. She talked to me about it, before she died. I asked her once, when we were both sober and alone together, if she knew she could die. It was a cool night, and we were sitting on a couple of lawn chairs on the little balcony outside our apartment, watching the stars. After a long silence, I turned toward her and asked her. She looked deep into my eyes for a moment, then turned away and stared at the moon, as if she was searching for something. After a few more minutes in silence, I said, "I love you, you know," to her. She got up then, kissed me gently on the forehead, and went back into the apartment. Still staring at the stars, I could hear the door shut. She didn't come home that night, but she was back the next day.

She never answered my question, but I know what she would have said. She knew what she was doing, she knew the risks. This was her way of escaping and if she could do so for a few hours and come back unharmed, great. And if she died while doing it, that was fine with her too. She figured there's not much she can do about it once it's over and done. Besides, I knew she'd rather die quickly of an overdose than rot in a prison cell because the black suits don't like her lifestyle.

So this was the path she took. I followed because I had nowhere else to go. She took me in and gave me what she had to give. Her happiness was my happiness, her faults were my faults, her lies were my lies, her addictions were my addictions. Together we'd escape from the real world and together we'd return to it. I never thought I'd have to return alone.

She was the love of my life and now she's gone. She was my life. She loved me so much and she made sure I knew it. Now that she's gone I feel so lost and alone. I still walk Haight Street to the store, but it feels empty, deserted. I don't know what to do anymore. I can't live without her. And I won't.

back to the highway that never ends