Alexandria - Lake Isabella, Michigan
Entered on February 11, 2009
Age Group: Under 18
Themes: addiction
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I am an addict. I am an addict in every sense. I lose sleep over it, and my eating patterns have become irregular. It’s always on my mind. I think about it more than ninety percent of the time. I can’t escape it. I‘m addicted.

It’s one thing to realize it, another to admit to it. I am fully aware of my addiction, but I would never admit to having a problem. But I know I’m addicted. I’m addicted to him. I love his voice, his eyes and his scent. Everything about him draws me in, and I can’t help myself. I’ve tried to break the hold he harbors over me, but there’s no escape. I come back to him after every failed attempt to distance myself.

We had gone to the movies a couple times. He was the one who called it a date, not me. He would text me until my phone died. We talked about our childhood, our past relationships, super heroes, and everything imaginable. We could hold a conversation for hours. “Buenas noches niña bonita” he would say before I went to bed: good night beautiful girl.

Then one night he apologized, and said that he had been leading me on. “It doesn’t click,” he claimed. “There’s no special change in feeling. I like you merely as a friend.” I had realized at that moment that he was just an average high school boy who only cared for himself, someone who would pull a girl along just because he could.

I told him to leave me alone, and never speak to me. In my head I was begging for him to say something, anything. He kept his distance as he promised, but I couldn’t keep mine. I would make up excuses just to talk to him. I would go out of my way to run in to him. Just being friends was okay, as long as I still had his attention, as long as I didn’t have to quit.

I tried to stay away, but I couldn’t. I stopped my normal activities in order to avoid him. But that only lasted a short time before I was caught under his grasp again. In a new form sometimes even. I could change the hallway in which I inhabited, but he would change his just the same. I would stop getting online in order to avoid him, but he would text me in its place. He seemed to be everywhere. I couldn’t stay away. I was addicted. I didn’t know what to do. I just couldn’t keep my distance. I couldn’t resist the temptation.

Some addictions can’t be broken, and he had become my favorite drug. On every level, in every way, and in any sense, I am addicted. Like the many other addicts, perhaps I, too, should be convicted. If convicted I’d have only my thoughts. Without him near, maybe I could finally think clear. Then, maybe I could break this addiction and finally escape my afflict