My Addiction

If you are planning to read an aimless rant about nothing (mainly me being lame) you will be highly disappointed. The issues brought up in this post will not be about lava lamps, tight pants, or maggots. This post will mean something. Everything. It will reinvent your view on what is important. Orphans, wars, and drowning polar bears are of no concern. These issues are too small; they are hardly worth mention. I'm here to cover what matters to me, and therefore to everyone. Now without delay, I will bring you the body of my ever-so important rant.

The consumption of drugs can be dangerous, even lethal. People die every day, overdosing; after deciding that their short stack of pancakes would taste far better if they sprinkled a little bit of heroin on top. Only to end up downing a whole gram, completely forgetting about the bacon and side of over-easy eggs. Others, while participating in drinking games chose to snack on pills of adderall in attempt to ensure their victory. These "victors" are found the next day dead on the floor, after their heart could not decide if it was supposed to sleep or to dance.

My problem is far more concerning. My addiction will never kill me. It is not stoppable and everyday it grows stronger. Soon it will be it that consumes me. Morning, day, and night I am kept awake wondering if maybe just a little more might make everything all fall into place. Maybe everything will be better. But I know, not so secretly, my life will stay the same.

It got worse no more than a month ago. Nothing big happened in my life. There was no traumatic event that pushed me over the edge. I just started to become a more heavy user. There was I time which I just did it socially. Me and some friends would pool some money together to get a little bit. Then we'd huddle in corner or under bridges, so we could do it in our own way (some preferred to dilute it, but I have always taken it straight.)

After awhile I came to enjoy it more and more. I found myself coming home at night, only to hide in my room to quench my thirsty addiction. The good thing, or maybe the curse, is that I will never run out. I will always be able to score some more. It was a couple weeks ago that I decided to bring some paraphernalia to school so that I could be on the stuff even when I was in class. The piece sits calmly on my desk. Few people even notice, and those who do rarely know what it is.

I have a few friends that join me in this activity. But others are disgusted by it. My habit changed my behavior, stained my teeth, and it's taste still lingers on my tongue. Days that I do not get my fix, I suffer from headaches and sleepiness. Despite this, I'm not sure I want to change. I know that sounds bad. But I think it's true. As long as I keep it up I should never suffer from it's side effects. I've found myself able to accomplish more when I am under the influence (which I am as I write this). I have also become more conversational at social events. In fact I find myself not able to stop talking. Which is what I must do now. For when this chemical is in my body it makes me want to write. I have already said too much. And unless I stop now, I may never stop.

There will come a day that I will find it necessary to go cold turkey. But until then I will continue to consume and to write. Curse this liquid dependence, that I have come to call "coffee".