I'm currently stuck in traffic. This really doesn't bother me too much because I'm not the one driving and I don't have anywhere to be, at least nowhere that requires me to hurry. I'm grappling with my emotions as I always am. Today, I must confess, I turned to an old demon for help. I feel like I've fallen off the wagon a bit but I also feel like I have a better grip on the problem. I admit, it felt fucking good. Like all crutches, there is comfort in leaning on something familiar. I realize I can't rely too much on chemicals to get me by, however. There is joy in moderation and I feel like I will appreciate my vice more if I keep a lid on it. There's also monetary things to consider. I am saving a ton of cash by not letting addiction rule me.
But holy fuck, it felt good.
I realize, though, that I have a problem because instead of being entirely satiated, I am yearning for the next fix. Oh I could really jump off the edge and just do more, but I know deep down that I would feel worse later. Better to maintain discipline and indulge only a tiny bit. I've got plenty of ways to distract myself. I also can enjoy other things just as much, I just have to tell myself that it is OK.
Why is the rush so addictive?
Always crawling in my own skin. Most people wouldn't know it just by looking at me. I get the feeling that most if not all people are riding on some sort of razor's edge.
