Addicts.
smack and whiskey and xanax.
The world is kind of sick.
Alright, I guess "kind of" isn't really a harsh or drastic enough phrase. Maybe incredibly? Extremely? Indubitably? I guess not third one. It's not like there's any dispute against that claim.
The world is full of addicts.
Obviously, there are people addicted to smack and whiskey and Xanax and cheeseburgers, and all these people, they have a "problem". A problem, deemed by society. If you like something so much that you need it constantly, and that constant longing is killing you, then you're sick. You're wrong, and you're fucked up, and you need help.
I'm addicted to many things, but no one tells me I need help.
No one seems to really care if you're an addict, unless you're dying or you're hurting that person. I'm addicted to things that only hurt myself, so I guess it's not that big of a deal.
My mom, she's an addict.
My mother and I seem to be addicted to the same things. We're addicted to approval and validation. We're addicted to restful nights. We're addicted to companionship. We're addicted to the search of new things to learn and ways to open up our minds.
We just find out fixes differently.
If you asked her what her definition of companionship was, of what a relationship consisted of, of what fun things to do with your significant other were, she probably wouldn't say "having sex in a car after smoking a bowl". But I would. Therein lies the difference between us.
If you asked me what my definition of validation was, of what my idea of positive reinforcement was, or what makes me happy, I can bet you ten bucks it wouldn't be "a good evaluation at work by my boss" or "being commended for my work ethic". But she would. Right there is proof of how our addiction differs.
I'm sick, and she's sick, but the doctors aren't making house calls to my house and the hospice isn't greeting us with open arms. We're dying, but we're still breathing.
I question the motives of others constantly. I do it so much that I'm almost unable to experience a fulfilling relationship with anymore I meet. It's sad. It's another manifestation of my illness, but I'm not attending a "precautionary social measures anonymous" group. Do they have that? Someone sign me up.
Hi, I'm Courtney, and I'm addicted to seeking the fulfillment I can't find in myself n others who will most likely disappoint me.
Hi, Courtney.
I find there to be problems in everything I do, yet I find other people to have more shortcomings than I do. I'm in a love-hate relationship with absolutely everything in my life, and that's sad. It's not necessarily sad in the way that funerals or disappointing movies are sad. It's sad in the sense that I'm so incredibly indecisive about everything in my life that I can't even decide whether or not to love or hate anything about it. I flip-flop. It's disgusting,
Maybe "disgusting" is too harsh of a word.
Hi, I'm Courtney, and I'm addicted to dyeing my hair because I get bored with myself so easily that I need to constantly change my appearance in order to stay some semblance of happy.
Hi, Courtney.
I once had an english teacher who told me I was too wordy. I feel like that's the whole concept of english, and writing - to be wordy, and verbose, and to e able to be descriptive and intellectually available. I guess I was wrong.
Hi, I'm Courtney, and I'm addicted to succeeding because if I fail, I'll be worse than the people I constantly ridicule.
Hi, Courtney.
My mother takes two pink allergy tablets to sleep at night. They're cheaper and have the same amount of diphenhydramine as the much more expensive brand-name sleeping pills. They work, and that's all that matters.
We're not different in the things that we want, really. None of us are. I think every person in this world wants happiness , and that's something that should be so obvious, something that shouldn't even need to be said. There are so many unhappy addicts in the world, though, and people like myself are the reason why things like that need to be said.
Hi, I'm Courtney, and I'm addicted to finding my intellectual equal.
Hi, I'm Courtney, and I avoid small talk at all costs because I'm painfully awkward.
Hi, I'm Courtney, and I get panic attacks because I constantly feel out of control.
Hi, hi, hi.
Alright, I guess "kind of" isn't really a harsh or drastic enough phrase. Maybe incredibly? Extremely? Indubitably? I guess not third one. It's not like there's any dispute against that claim.
The world is full of addicts.
Obviously, there are people addicted to smack and whiskey and Xanax and cheeseburgers, and all these people, they have a "problem". A problem, deemed by society. If you like something so much that you need it constantly, and that constant longing is killing you, then you're sick. You're wrong, and you're fucked up, and you need help.
I'm addicted to many things, but no one tells me I need help.
No one seems to really care if you're an addict, unless you're dying or you're hurting that person. I'm addicted to things that only hurt myself, so I guess it's not that big of a deal.
My mom, she's an addict.
My mother and I seem to be addicted to the same things. We're addicted to approval and validation. We're addicted to restful nights. We're addicted to companionship. We're addicted to the search of new things to learn and ways to open up our minds.
We just find out fixes differently.
If you asked her what her definition of companionship was, of what a relationship consisted of, of what fun things to do with your significant other were, she probably wouldn't say "having sex in a car after smoking a bowl". But I would. Therein lies the difference between us.
If you asked me what my definition of validation was, of what my idea of positive reinforcement was, or what makes me happy, I can bet you ten bucks it wouldn't be "a good evaluation at work by my boss" or "being commended for my work ethic". But she would. Right there is proof of how our addiction differs.
I'm sick, and she's sick, but the doctors aren't making house calls to my house and the hospice isn't greeting us with open arms. We're dying, but we're still breathing.
I question the motives of others constantly. I do it so much that I'm almost unable to experience a fulfilling relationship with anymore I meet. It's sad. It's another manifestation of my illness, but I'm not attending a "precautionary social measures anonymous" group. Do they have that? Someone sign me up.
Hi, I'm Courtney, and I'm addicted to seeking the fulfillment I can't find in myself n others who will most likely disappoint me.
Hi, Courtney.
I find there to be problems in everything I do, yet I find other people to have more shortcomings than I do. I'm in a love-hate relationship with absolutely everything in my life, and that's sad. It's not necessarily sad in the way that funerals or disappointing movies are sad. It's sad in the sense that I'm so incredibly indecisive about everything in my life that I can't even decide whether or not to love or hate anything about it. I flip-flop. It's disgusting,
Maybe "disgusting" is too harsh of a word.
Hi, I'm Courtney, and I'm addicted to dyeing my hair because I get bored with myself so easily that I need to constantly change my appearance in order to stay some semblance of happy.
Hi, Courtney.
I once had an english teacher who told me I was too wordy. I feel like that's the whole concept of english, and writing - to be wordy, and verbose, and to e able to be descriptive and intellectually available. I guess I was wrong.
Hi, I'm Courtney, and I'm addicted to succeeding because if I fail, I'll be worse than the people I constantly ridicule.
Hi, Courtney.
My mother takes two pink allergy tablets to sleep at night. They're cheaper and have the same amount of diphenhydramine as the much more expensive brand-name sleeping pills. They work, and that's all that matters.
We're not different in the things that we want, really. None of us are. I think every person in this world wants happiness , and that's something that should be so obvious, something that shouldn't even need to be said. There are so many unhappy addicts in the world, though, and people like myself are the reason why things like that need to be said.
Hi, I'm Courtney, and I'm addicted to finding my intellectual equal.
Hi, I'm Courtney, and I avoid small talk at all costs because I'm painfully awkward.
Hi, I'm Courtney, and I get panic attacks because I constantly feel out of control.
Hi, hi, hi.