Addicted.

This heart is now black. As black as my smoke filled lungs. I had breathing problems when i was younger, as a baby i stopped breathing several times a night. As a child i had asthma and now, even though every now and again i'll lose my breath or my chest will clamp down and bear hug my lungs. I will still smoke, because it relieves stress, because it distracts me from my own war.
Now addiction number two. Whiskey, oh i do love a good scotch. I don't know how anyone cannot. Being an ex-alcoholic you'd think i'd learn, but do i. Do i fuck. I still drink, sometimes litres at a time, and i love every minute of it. Maybe because i know that it is a form of self mutilation, that it will kill me in the end. That my torment will be ended quicker by this, only without the drama.
Number Three. Blood, Violence and the creation of fear. I love to cut people, if they enjoy it. It's even better.. it's a harmless way of releasing violence. The blood always so sweet, the more untainted by poisons the better. Hence why mine tastes utterly terrible. Oh the fear, how i love to make someone scream, someone squirm or someone cry. Why? Because i'm a sick, sick individual. It gives me a sense of power, and i revel in it.

My three addictions, the three reasons i'm alive. Other than friends and music. But both of those fade, you lose friends, you change music tastes. These addictions will never die, they are a part of me and they are as much a part of me as any other aspect of my personality. I embrace them, i enjoy them, i thrive from them.
This is me, and this is how i cope. Feel free to judge me as you like, just don't say it to my face. I do bite.