I know what people saw.
My entire physical form had the stains, I was tainted. My euphoria was always short lived, always induced by some foreign material in my body. Something illegal, something which could kill by making me feel more alive.
People saw me. They knew, just by following my gaze to the clouds. They knew where I wanted to be or were I was. They knew what I showed them. They believed that whatever I showed them was the truth.
But they never found out more. They never cared. They painted every single thing I showed them into one entity. An entity with a shell made entirely out of the ecstacy, the high and the beautiful haze.
Only she knew me.
