i remember the day i realized i had become truly addicted to smoking. it wasn’t too long after a new year’s day that i promised myself i’d quit as a new year’s resolution. and not three or four or five days later, i found myself overburdened with the tiger of addiction on top of me, riding me, squishing me down and very quickly doing some mental calculations as to why this was just too hard and why it was just not that necessary to quit.
i didn’t smoke (drink) alone. i didn’t smoke (drink) in the morning. i didn’t smoke (drink) at work. i was a social smoker (drinker). i could go a couple of days without smoking (drinking). it wasn’t like i was really addicted, right?
when i started listing off those reasons, i realized that they were much like the same reasons i used for silently and subconsciously distinguishing myself from all the ‘real’ alcoholics all those years, and i knew i was in real fucking trouble. because we all knew where i was then, right? a bonafide alkie. a ‘real’ alcoholic. garden-variety, to be sure, but i knew those formerly great excuses didn’t mean shit when it came to ‘real’ addiction or not.
and i started to admit some modicum of powerlessness over the great and mighty cancer stick. i wasn’t quite ready to admit defeat, because i started to take matters into my own hands, declaring my quitting and lasting anywhere from one to two to three months, inevitably crumbling with some desperate need to feel different or get “buzzed” or feel a part of. it wasn’t until i totally gave up the goose and decided to give it up to the old HP and smoked ’em like i didn’t really care (except i cared, oh, i cared) and prayed for it to be removed that it was removed. and wow, it was removed. in a nearly fundamentalist fashion.
so. you would think i would have taken some of that electric faith bugaloo and remembered it or something. but no. i start declaring that as of the new year, i’m getting rid of sugar. and not even all of it. just refined sugar. the obvious stuff. the cookies. the chocolate. the milkshakes. the donuts. that shit. and i start telling people. yee-haw! look at me. look at what I AM going to do with MY ADDICTION.
anyway, i relapsed today. on fucking fudge, no less. because if you’re addicted to speed, don’t fucking go and get mini thins, people. get the high grade coke. that’s what i’m talking about. so, yeah. i think i’m just going to go back to eating sugar just like i “want” to, and pray about that shit every fucking day. sometimes twice a day. sometimes three times. it’ll get removed. i know it will. it’s been done before. fuck.