Excerpt from my Young Adult Novel: Vicky's Coffin. Thoughts?

I felt ecstasy at the sight of him amongst the graves, so much time had passed, fantasizing I could travel to a world where he could be mine, where I could touch him and touch the things that have touched him as though they made those things more precious. I envied the leaves that grazed his skin and the dirt beneath his feet. I imagined running to him, letting him take me away. Whoever he was, whatever he was did not matter. I felt drugged. Groggy. Like laughing gas at the dentist. Like nightime medicine when you're sick. It was a high I couldn’t seek drugs powerful enough to imitate. He was my painkiller, medicine’s equivalent to the discovery of penicillin, the adrenaline that would restart my heart if it stopped, the antidepressant that would bring me back from the hollows of self-destruction, and--soon enough--the antipsychotic I would need if I told anyone what my thoughts sounded like right now.