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Addictionated

24 Feb

It is amazing how you never notice how addicted you get to something

Until it has gone

Either by personal choice or of another, or fate

There is the shortness of breath

The weight of your head on the pillow, in a feeble attempt to get up and start the morning

Even when it is the afternoon.

Looking around, almost as if you expect it to climb out of the crack in the wall, or the next turning on the road, or the next pub.

Addiction comes in many forms, obviously, we make so many for ourselves. Distraction.

And some of these make you become an outcast if you don’t join in.

Alcohol, Facebook, apps, music, fashion, politics, religion, shoes. Fucking shoes.

Makes it a struggle to break away when everyone looks at you in drugged up eyes and thinks you are losing it if you walk.

We are all dead. We really are.

It has taken a long time to realise, we are all sat, eyes squared, too fucking scared to look beyond our screens, how can we live without the noise, without the 24 hour disruption.

Absent minded on so many things at once we miss EVERYTHING. Nothing goes in, everything gets sucked out, trickling out of our ears and regurgitated through stolen words from our mouths.

If you sat in the silence for a few minutes, no sounds, no words, no screens, you would weep.

Every addiction can get fractured, think, if you lost yours would you remember who you were before it took you?

There there, nothing to fear, let’s just all go to sleep and start again tomorrow.

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