100
The first time I had a cigarette, it felt like someone had opened a secret valve on my body and released all the pressure from my insides. It didn’t take long to start turning that valve daily.
But this isn’t about my smoking. It’s not about drinking, either, even though the first drink I had left me face-first in the toilet and wanting more.
This isn’t about my first time playing an instrument, or the first time I skipped a class, or the first time I drank too much NyQuil on purpose, or the first time I lied and said I was fine.
This is about the second, and the third, and the inevitable hundredth time. My personality is addictive, is additive, growing malignant new behaviors and blocking out life before them. This is about the ravenous, chewing pain that takes over if I can’t get that next fix.
This is about our first kiss. This is about our hundredth.
But this isn’t about my smoking. It’s not about drinking, either, even though the first drink I had left me face-first in the toilet and wanting more.
This isn’t about my first time playing an instrument, or the first time I skipped a class, or the first time I drank too much NyQuil on purpose, or the first time I lied and said I was fine.
This is about the second, and the third, and the inevitable hundredth time. My personality is addictive, is additive, growing malignant new behaviors and blocking out life before them. This is about the ravenous, chewing pain that takes over if I can’t get that next fix.
This is about our first kiss. This is about our hundredth.