bully

A Story by Misa

We all have things we regret doing, but keep doing anyway, whatever it may be. These addictions rule us.

I don’t know why I do it.

But then again I don’t think I ever stopped to question my motives before. Whenever I have the urge, I just do it. Some might say it’s because it makes me feel good. And I can honestly say I wouldn’t disagree. It does feel good. Every damn time. So…. So good. Hell, the thought alone is enough to send me into little shudders of intense joy, enough to make the corners of my mouth jerk upward, to make me almost twitch with the overwhelming need to burst into little giggles. There’s no way I can deny that how it feels is more than the word “good” could ever accurately describe.

It’s almost beautiful.

Still though, the sick smile I try to choke back and the bubbly feeling inside my chest isn’t enough to really explain why I do the things I do.

There are times I question it, even regret it. Even through all the happiness I feel, there’s this small inkling of remorse. I think to myself, how could I do this? How am I even human? Other people don’t do these things… They live normal lives; they never have these hidden agendas. Sometimes I listen to those seedlings of self-hatred. And sometimes it’s even enough to make me stop for a while.

And during those times that I stop, I feel like all I have to do is control myself. All I have to do is fight it. It’s all in my head anyway. Fight, fight, fight, fight. Like a mantra in my head, I tell myself again and again. Fight. You’re stronger than this. There was a time you didn’t need to do it at all.

And for a bit, it works. I even start to feel good about having kicked this habit, this disease that I somehow acquired. It no longer has to have power over me. But no matter how much I ignore it, no matter how think the need has disappeared… It never really has. It sits inside me, waiting- festering. Like a mold in my brain, rotting me from the inside, ruining the new clean image I have of myself and letting me think I’ve got it managed before it grabs me by the throat again. And when the opportunity finally arises, the fall from grace is even more devastating than before I’d ever decided to quit.

I give in and I let the fungus cover me completely again, let it creep over me until I’m consumed. It scares me sometimes how easily I fall back into something I’d thought I’d left so far behind. But I always do, without fail. Maybe it’s because I’m weak, I don’t know. Or maybe I’m just flawed somehow, a sub human. Some kind of creature. A monster… A stain.

But I know I can’t stop. If I do, who knows what could happen? Giving in is just easier than any other alternative. I'm certainly not seeing anyone. No one can ever know about this.

I'll just keep letting it bully me I guess.