AddicTion

This has been a long time in the making. I have worked on this for about three months perfecting everything.

Addiction

-noun, the condition of being dependent on a particular substance, thing, or activity.

Interesting.

What do you think of when you hear addiction? Meth, Cocaine, Heroin, or Alcohol?

A mixture of two or more maybe? Do you ever think about a person?

No that’s not possible. You cannot get addicted to another individual, what kind of pathetic idea is that?

Drugs, actual drugs cause horrible side- effects such as hallucinations, withdrawals, violent sickness, paranoia.   

You cannot be addicted to another person. People don’t cause these side effects. Nothing but vile substances that you choose to ingest in your own body can do that, right?

Wrong.

You were very addictive. Swiftly running through me with a rush I had never had before. One taste and I knew I had to have more.  

In the early stages, I had no idea how destructive you were to me.

Each day you were drawing me in closer, knowing all along that you would leave me

burnt out and fishing for my next fix that would never be mine.

I had all the symptoms of being a full blown addict and never realized it.

Because you can’t be addicted to a person, right?

First came the hallucinations.

I created these hallucinations that you were a decent individual. That you cared so much about me and my well-being. I had these perfect images of a future with you. They masked how you truly were towards me. They showed me this perfect man that got fuzzy and turned into  a horrid monster. For f***s sake you were such a hallucination it isn’t even funny.

Next came the paranoia. This constant looking over my shoulder wondering what was going on, who was watching me, where you were, where are you going? Who is she? Constantly running around through my everyday thoughts always running never f*****g ceasing until one day they were stopped. When you decided you didn’t need me anymore that I was a waste of your f*****g precious time.

The withdrawals are worse.

The withdrawals stung the most. Lemon juice in a fresh cut didn’t come close.

Actually, take getting a paper cut and then spilling salt and lemon juice inside  while simultaneously setting it on fire.

That’s how much it f*****g hurt.  

They about killed me. So many times did I want to come back, Come back and fall into the same sick cycle.

But that’s hard to do when the addiction up and left.

Can’t run back to something that is no longer there.

Can’t bury your face into his shoulder and sob when her face is already there.

Author's Note

I label this as poetry but I intended for it to have a more story-like feel and style to it. It was written in Google Docs so there may be slight grammar and style errors please ignore. Comments and feedback are always welcome! Should I write more in this style? Should I go into possibly writing short-stories? Let me know! :)

Reviews

[FIN]

This was beautifully composed.

I would categorize it as a story, under the genre prose/poems, given that the entire concept is metaphorical in its approach. Comparing one thing directly to another and stating that they are the same.

I loved each section depicting addiction and tying it unto a person, wonderfully done.

Only critique: lose the whole "underline" approach, it distracts from the read.

Much love,

LR