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2005-08-08 - 2:12 p.m.
I'm reading a book about drinking. The kind of drinking that goes on for years and takes over your life and makes you lose things -- maybe even things you didn't know you had.
It all makes complete sense to me. I can understand the obsession, the compulsion, the anxiety. I KNOW these feelings.
I can understand wanting to hide this thing you love because you know someone will try and take it away from you -- it's BAD for you, after all.
I can understand the constant, unfailing NEED to be fulfilled, to get higher, to pull further from reality.
It's as if I've written it. This love story about liquor.
Only I'm not an alcoholic. Or an addict. Or an over- or under- eater. I don't smoke and I don't cut and I don't fuck every single person I meet.
But this loss of control is familiar. The obsession dear to my heart.
Is this the human condition: the cycle of need? Or is it just me?