20 February 2005

The Addict, Me

My addiction cares little for me. But when I use it, it doesn’t mind one bit.

It's an unequal relationship.

I think about it all the time. It thinks little of me and my pleas.

And yes, I try to quit. But the very fact I try to stop thinking about it means it has already won the battle for my head. And, unfortunately, my heart as well.

Even when I sleep, I feel it lingering over me. Like an evil spirit offended.

Sometimes I forget I am an addict and feel rehabilitated. Like when I laugh, or think about other milder addictions whose power I’ve yet to fall under. Then I tell myself, the weed is always stronger on the other side.

I have a support group at the office. We all want to be free. But we enjoy being under its influence. It makes us feel alive. Yet it abuses us, makes us feel so small, so foolish, so hurt. I want to have a serious chat with it, I want to ask it if it wants to go, or stay. I can’t handle the ambiguity. I can’t be the one always hanging on, when it’s being so indifferent.

It will have its way with me. I wanted to give up just a little of myself, and I ended up surrendering. It makes me want to relinquish. It makes me want to move to another country, despite the weather. It makes me say hello when I just wish I could say goodbye.

No comments: