I have a confession to make, and it’s not one I’m particularly proud of. See, I have an addiction. I’ve been keeping it at bay over the last few weeks to the best of my ability, but I often find myself unable to control urges. You must understand that it’s a diseeeeease. As such, I can only ask for your sympathy in this, my most troubling of times.
I will admit that I am lucky my addiction has not taken me down the route of alcohol – destructive to the mindtank as that is. As for drugs? Well I only use heroin once a week, recreationally, so there’s no issue there*. Gambling? All under control, as well we know. But that’s not to say my addiction is anything less on the grand scale – it dominates my mind, and while I can’t claim it actually inconveniences me in any way whatsoever, it does irk me somewhat.
I managed for a few months, actually, to stay away from it. I tried alternatives and they kept me going, but just like methadone they’re never as good as the real thing. But I kept at it and I had a minor breakthrough in that I’d almost forgotten about my once-insatiable desires.
So my brain said to me “well you’re over it now. Why not have a celebratory… you know?” And you know what I did, dear audience? I listened to my brain for the first time in 27 years. And now? Now the addiction is back. And it won’t go away.
I just can’t stop quaffing D&G Old Jamaica Ginger Beer. Seriously – I’m onto one, maybe two cans a day. It’s liquid crack. I need help. Or more cans, as I only have four left for the weekend. Care packages willingly accepted.
*Always admit where you stole a joke from. Here.