Addicted

When we think of addiction, we think of drugs, alcohol, smoking. We picture people in rehab hospitals, with those gaunt, drawn-out eyes, with a personality hiding in there, somewhere. We picture syringes and cigarettes and tiny begs of powder and and empty bottles and broken bottles and half empty bottles and half empty souls.

But really, we're all addicted to something. Some of us are addicted to success, and the pursuit of it. Success in school, in your job. We shoot up with extra hours at work, at the library. We get drunk on extra credit, compliments, little advances towards that place we want to get. Some of us are addicted to social lives. Who do we know? Who knows us? Who should we know? What should we do to be known? The drug is face time. Only face time. Some of us are addicted to significant others -- the one we have, or the one we are trying to have. We're only happy when we're with them. We get high from their presence, and we're hung over when we're not. Some of us are addicted to memories, to the past. We chug bottles of yesterdays, with no taste for today or tomorrow.

So how do we cure these addictions? How do we get past the ball and chain that has us tied down? When we get to the end of the day, how do we not reach for that last cigarette, how do we put the cork in the bottle, how do we leave our old selves? Maybe the change begins where it started . . . why we got this way in the first place . . .