That wonderful, awful thing.
It’s that thing you love and hate, that thing that you know is bad, but you need it. It induces darkness over your mind, and it makes your head hurt late at night. You stay up past 3, thinking about it, knowing it must be a secret, because if someone knew, they’d take it away from you. You could live without it, you know, but it’s your guilty pleasure, and men are that they might have joy, so who are you to deny man’s purpose? So you keep going back, and going back, and you’re making yourself sick over it. Your friend comes over and you have to hide it, minimize your window, stuff it in your pocket, or hide it in your couch cushions.
Maybe they’ve noticed you acting strange. They ask about it, and you wave them off with a smile, and everything’s fine, don’t worry, mustn’t show that weakness, you know, and their easy acceptance makes you wonder if they care. Well, maybe they don’t, and when they leave, your smile drops faster than a lead balloon, and you go back again.
Because you could live without it, but you don’t really want to give it up. That sweet, sweet addiction that keeps you up at night, gives you fleeting moments of pleasure, makes the rest of your day this horrible, dark mess, and you lie to your friends and your family, and you don’t smile as easily anymore. That one time changed your life, and now you can’t stop, and you know you can’t, now doesn’t that just suck?
You’ll spend the rest of your life a slave to your addiction, and all because you thought, just once can’t hurt.