Addictions are fascinating mainly because everyone has got one. Everyone has that skeleton in the closet that they keep hidden away and secretly (or not so secretly) practice. Most people immediately think of destructive addictions (not to defend addiction as a healthy habit), such as drugs or alcohol, but more often then not addictions form in smaller, more niche areas, such as lust or desire.

My demons often break free in times of weakness, such as when I'm drunk, or my day as been as enjoyable as stabbing myself in the eye with a rusty fork. It's always subconscious though, well, initially and then it just crosses my mind, 'wait, did I just think that? fuck!' and then before I know it, I'm trying to pretend it didn't happen, or trying justify it in my mind.

It's always the same cycle, the addiction sucks you in like a cheap advertising campaign with conditions so small you'd need The Hubble to read them, and then it spits you back out with little more then a fleeting memory and vision of what should of been. Should of been to whom? The mind is amazing, show it shit and it'll give you flowers. It's always hard to remember that in the heat of the moment though, but somehow, it's never that hard when your lying in bed at night, wishing you could go back and punch yourself repeatedly until some sort of sense lodged in your head.

It's more of a ballbreaker when you think your cured though; you think you've overcome your addiction, put the demons back into their place so to speak, risen above the ashes of your burnt out soul and ready to move on, a better man. It's ugly when you realise you've done nothing but bury it under a thin layer of bullshit lies and denial. Who's to blame? We rarely blame ourselves, it's easier passing the buck to someone else or putting your actions as the result of someone else's choices.

Once burnt, forever scarred, how much scar tissue can you handle?