Another Axe to the face


It comes in many forms.  For some, it involves lonely nights, abusing the drug of your choice.  For others, it consists of lighting a cigarrette from the ashes of another cigarrette.  And for others, it is compulsive, self-destructive behaviour.

Some people have addictive personalities, and while the mechanics of addiction vary from person to person, the underlying cause is the same.   Often they find themselves heating up their junk, cooking it in a spoon over a flickering flame.  Or binge-eating ice cream.  Or staring in your twisted reflection of a ladle and wondering how you got there.

A lot of addicts seem to gravitate towards the spoon, for some reason.  But I digress.  The point is, there are addicts out there, and many of them are ordinary people.  And I know this, because I am one of them.

At around five p.m. on friday, yesterday, I picked up Season Five of How I Met Your Mother.  I have been watching it since I got home, at around seven p.m.  This was six and a half hours ago. 

Sure, I'm not reenacting a scene from Pulp Fiction with my habit, but the fact is, every time an episode ends, I find myself saying "one more episode, then I'll finish cleaning my apartment".  And at the end of every episode, I look at myself in the reflection of my TV screen, and wonder just what the hell I'm doing with my life.

And I remember last year, when I made a very similar post to this one. 

And I quote:
Unfortunately, I got home at around 5:30, and then realized just how addictive that TV show is. There were some 22 episodes... twenty minutes each. And I did something I've never done before, and will never do again.
I watched all of them. Some seven, eight hours of a TV show. I finally saw what happens with the goat, one of the most sappy romantic scenes ever, and the coolness that is SVEN. Afterwards, I was tired. Beaten. And I felt dirty. Soiled, somehow.
Emphasis added. I made that post almost a year ago to the day.  And now, a year later, and the cycle continues.  I'm tired, bleary-eyed, and beaten.  I feel dirty.

And there's not a single clean spoon in the house.

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