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I'm addicted. What to do without my drug is beyond me. It's not the kind that cripples ... itching junkie kinda drug. When I get in the car to seek out the source of my addiction, I do it with a clear mind.
I think about what I'm going to do. I plan it before hand. I make arrangements to ensure my autonomy in the legal system remains intact. I do all this with a clear head. Money, like any addiction requires, is not a problem for me.
After my fix, I feel drained. Empty, it doesn't even give me a high. A sense of no completion. But I continue, in hopes of finding a high ... one day, I might find it, maybe this time, I tell myself. I know, logically, I am wrong. And I must stop.
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