Addictions

Now and then I heavily envy people proudly declaring something of the sort “I never drink coffee. I have some firm principles in my life, and one of them is never to get addicted to anything” – one of my penpals’ words.

Well, I guess, it takes a lot of strength, mostly mental, to set oneself rules and to follow them no matter what. This “no matter what” is one of the most ridiculous word combinations ever, the gravest of the gravest exaggeration, come to think of it.

There is always something that matters, that might in a blink of an eye alter not only our attitude to this or that, but the whole perception of life.

Anyway, that thing about “I ban addictions” I can understand. Or try to. Hopefully. Might be, it’s a way to demonstrate, above all to yourself, that it’s you and only you who guide and rule your own life? Or, does it stem from a person being conscious about their health, which is perfectly normal and deserves if not admiration, than at least, respect?

Or, can it be a sort of a protest they throw at the whole world, world so full of vicious sins?

I say “sins” because an addiction is considered to be a variation of a sin, isn’t it? But, wait.

Human nature is originally sinful, of that I’m completely sure, that’s the way we were created – to have sins, to get rid of them, to become stressed as a result and get new ones in an attempt to cheer up, to quit them too, and so on and so forth over and over again, throughout all our lives. One huge vicious circle. But this whole process makes life so much more exciting, doesn’t it? It’s like… Mmm, fighting. Or exploring ocean depths. Napoleon or Jacque-Yves Cousteau were never bored, I bet.

I am a very bad person, having all sorts of addictions, and, shame on me, I declare it as proudly as the ones ranting on the opposite.

I’m addicted to coffee, completely and hopelessly. And, oooh, it is a drug, a harmful and haunting one! I was generously given a chance to prove that for myself once again the other day, spending an entire day without a drop of it, - not through my own will, or getting a weird notion to do a test of strength, that’d be the highest degree of masochism; no, just bad luck, - and seriously struggling to keep those few grains of sanity I possess, fighting uncontrollable fits of wild rage.

And to chocolate (which is bad as well, it makes my belly and cheeks look disgusting), even more hopelessly.

And to having good (and, erm, numerous) drinks, because it’s one of the most effective ways to give a break to the swollen mind that tends to get easily over-excited and disobeys.

And to smoking those short thin straws, mostly for one reason only – to get distracted and have another chance to think about eternal things. My manicure. Not eternal, though. A lousy example.

And to cherries, which, I’m convinced, it’s not even worth living without, - I’m not overstating, am I?

And to falling in love, which, honestly, always ends badly, - worse and worse (in mental, not body, respects, thank God) with every new the-last-mom-I-swear one, a worrying tendency, - but I keep on, what’s the idiom? stepping on the same rakes? breaking the same rakes? never mind, I do both.

And to 549 other minor (uglifying the body with tatoos is well ascribed to "minor", isn't it?) things, which, and I totally admit, have enslaved me, but deprived of them, my life would be as pleasurable as chewing a tail. A giraffe’s tail. Oh my, chewing… No, I’ll stop here.

P.S. (Pleadingly, looking up) Khm, excuse me, could you send some new yummy stuff to get hooked on down here, if you please?