Helen by Eric Sparks

I once saw the most beautiful girl in the world,
who I will forever call Helen, because I would happily
steal her away from her castle forever or
break down any wall, if the situation was reversed,
and she had been kidnapped from me. Shit,
I’d probably sit in the Trojan Horse all night by my lonesome,
just for the chance to fight for her, just to show her I cared.

It was strange though, seeing her, because I wasn’t allowed
to meet her and was only briefly blessed with her presence
as she was hustled away into a locked office right in front of my eyes.
See, I saw Helen, for the first and last time, in the waiting room
of an addiction center, where she waited to be cured of her heroin
sickness and I waited to be told I wasn’t addicted to weed.

After Helen went into that office, which meant I would
never see her again, Helen’s mom pulled out a little baggy,
and politely asked a doctor for assistance. His eyes shifted to the floor as
he walked over and quietly, but audibly, told her it was smack, but he
used the word heroin.

I was dumbfounded, flabbergasted, but not really shocked or surprised.
Mainly I was confused as my imagination contrasted the most beautiful face
I have ever seen with ugly face of heroin, and the uglier face of addiction. This
day represents the only experience I have where I look back and think,
“Life fucked up. Life got this one wrong,” even though I don’t believe
in irrationality.