Hi, i’m an addict.
I’m addicted to so many things, but nothing gives me the high writing does. It started when i was in 9th grade and since then i have spent almost every day being a writer. I wrote silly poems, sad stories, senseless stuff in diaries, i wrote because writing is the only thing that felt good.
I have had my moments of clean life where i didn’t write, but i found other addictions. Coffee, junk food and fiction. But nothing helps like writing, every word i put down calms me. Truth is if i won’t write i won’t be able to make it till dawn. My job also requires me to write, i come home and i write, on weekend i write, I’m happy i write and i write if can’t control what’s falling down my cheeks.
It’s like my drug, my alcohol. I don’t think i can give up or live without it, i know question is why would i want to do that? I don’t know, but today i asked myself what if not writing?
Maybe that’s why today im sad, because i can’t do anything else i have no other talent. I don’t know if that’s why am low or it’s just a thought came through the window of sadness, staring at me since morning.
I feel lost, like a soldier who knows that the backup is not coming and sooner or later it’s all about the “White Flag”. When i was young i always thought being a good person matter, if you are nice to everyone in your class or around you, nothing can go wrong. Truth be told, i lived being a nice girl all my life. I was one of those girls who you could ask to get you a coffee from canteen, while you worked on your class work. I always found saying No to anyone difficult, taking sides in a fight and even yelling at someone for anything. Because i wanted to be the girl, the one who was always nice. So that in the end, everyone would forgive me because i was the nice girl who always smiled and said yes.
Anyhow, i was kind of a nerd who was never great with books, never dressed trendy and had braces but i was still popular among people in my class which included brilliant as well as the fashionable ones. You know how? Because i used to write and they liked reading my “something to write while on bus to home” stuff from my notepad. They thought i was good, i wasn’t but, it made me happy.
Today, i need to write and write and write till i am spinning. I need to escape and few pages of writing along with fiction would be fine. That’s what Doctor “voice in the corner of my head” suggests.
“Hi I’m an addict,
And I’m addicted to writing”