Addict

I know I shouldn’t, yet my actions would suggest otherwise. I don’t know why I do the things I do, would knowing change anything?

I’m not sure how many times I’ve repeated this mistake. I can’t say I’ve lost count, as such an occurrence is the exact reason why I didn’t keep count in the first place.

I can’t even say for certain that I expect a different result each time I make the same choice. That’s the true definition of madness.

"This’ll be the last time", an addict.

"I don’t want this", both the truth and a lie.

The drug harms me, I try to pull away. Echoes of the brief high I used to feel cause my mood and my emotions to fluxuate, I am not in control.

I become dejected, and cold. The drug is there. The disease and the cure. Square one. And so the cycle repeats.