Addicted
I want to say that, as a person, I am easily addicted. Easily drawn to the feeling of not only needing a thing, but being unable to survive without it. Easily pulled down by a nagging desperation to, at all costs, get more of it. And not to any one given thing, but more of a general propensity to crave, need, desire, and take illogically whatever it is that has caught my desire.
I want to say that it is just me. That I'm just "that sort of person". I want to say that it is an innate fault within my type of personality, specifically. And if not that, then it's a fault I acquired after years of conditioning, years of experience, years of trying things and liking them.
I want to say that I am wholly responsible. That this is a personal struggle. That the rest of the world does not feel this way.
But then, I stop writing to look around. And I see a culture addicted.
I see stimulants like caffeine, relaxants like alcohol, and pain-killers. I see pools upon pools of various chemicals meant to enhance my daily experience, despite how simple it already is. And I see them all consumed in mass. I see sugar and fat guzzled by the pint, quart, gallon - daily. I see new, sparkling jewels covered in blood and sweat and ragged dirty rags adorning, decorating, enlivening our enriched lives.
I see people barely breathing under the load of their chosen addiction. Strung out or weighed down. Muddling themselves in between fixes. Cutting any edges so they can still feed the yearning inside of them for just one more. Just one more. Just this once.
I fear that we are an addictive huddle of creatures. Mixed up in between a latent instinctual push and the ability to push that aside. Seeking the benefit of our individual selves above the systems, above the model, above the pattern. Seeking without regard the thing we have come to need. The thing that, were it taken away, we would clearly die without.
And, the most depressing part, is that were it suddenly stripped away - we would most certainly die. Over-dosed on our own pleasure. Emaciated by our own gratification. Incapable of bearing up under the true weight of life. Incapable of adaptation. Incapable of survival.
We are the dead. But now, it is not because we are fighting for anything worthwhile. We are the dead because we have chosen it instead of life.
We are the dead, and we will not turn around.
I want to say that it is just me. That I'm just "that sort of person". I want to say that it is an innate fault within my type of personality, specifically. And if not that, then it's a fault I acquired after years of conditioning, years of experience, years of trying things and liking them.
I want to say that I am wholly responsible. That this is a personal struggle. That the rest of the world does not feel this way.
But then, I stop writing to look around. And I see a culture addicted.
I see stimulants like caffeine, relaxants like alcohol, and pain-killers. I see pools upon pools of various chemicals meant to enhance my daily experience, despite how simple it already is. And I see them all consumed in mass. I see sugar and fat guzzled by the pint, quart, gallon - daily. I see new, sparkling jewels covered in blood and sweat and ragged dirty rags adorning, decorating, enlivening our enriched lives.
I see people barely breathing under the load of their chosen addiction. Strung out or weighed down. Muddling themselves in between fixes. Cutting any edges so they can still feed the yearning inside of them for just one more. Just one more. Just this once.
I fear that we are an addictive huddle of creatures. Mixed up in between a latent instinctual push and the ability to push that aside. Seeking the benefit of our individual selves above the systems, above the model, above the pattern. Seeking without regard the thing we have come to need. The thing that, were it taken away, we would clearly die without.
And, the most depressing part, is that were it suddenly stripped away - we would most certainly die. Over-dosed on our own pleasure. Emaciated by our own gratification. Incapable of bearing up under the true weight of life. Incapable of adaptation. Incapable of survival.
We are the dead. But now, it is not because we are fighting for anything worthwhile. We are the dead because we have chosen it instead of life.
We are the dead, and we will not turn around.
2 Thought(s):
I love this post... It brings me some ease to know that other people are feeling the same things that I am feeling in terms of addiction. I am facing many challenges in this particular area of my life.
I found your words inspiring, but I have to disagree that we are all dead. I think each individual person has the capacity to change, as I am trying to by choosing the path of sobriety in my life.
Regardless, thanks for writing. I related to you in many, many ways.
Kopaeh, thank you for your comment. I will check out your writings as well.
B, when I speak of us being the dead, I mean in the terms of a society. I think individuals can try to rise above it, and they must in order to preserve (or try and rescue) the true spirit of humanity.
But, if that did actually happen, it would kill our society which would most likely kill many of us, whether we wanted it to die or not. And if it doesn't, our society is already killing us. So, either way. Quick death or slow rot, the people of the western way of life are in trouble.
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