Junkie, Part I of IV

I'm not a sex addict. Addicts are people with a problem - not to say I don't have a problem; I have plenty of problems. But addicts struggle with their problem and fail, struggle and fail. Some do pull themselves out of the practicing part of their addiction and maintain some semblance of an ordinary life with the badge that they dodged a bullet - or are hanging on by a very thin thread. But most just smoke a joint on the way to the shop, or overperfume to cover the liquor, or give head to strangers behind gas stations.

That's not me, I'm not an addict. I'm a junkie.

As a junkie you don't even try. You just dream.

As a junkie you watch your life get washed away every time the waves come crashing in on the rocks. You know you're along for the ride. The swells are just too powerful. You can flail, paddle, and kick as hard as you want, but all that water is so much bigger and heavier than you are, that it's like dogpaddling in a swimming pool - that's being carried down the highway on a giant flatbed truck.

Even the hermit crab can cling to the crags and weather it out between swells, then scuttle along on its way. But the slimy seaweed, it lives as long as it can while getting smashed against the rocks, until it finally washes ashore and dies without anyone giving a shit. It seems like a corny analogy to use, but only because it's so true. Homeless drug addicts sitting on the curb, you feel guilty about not giving them any change. But a smelly clump of kelp strewn across your sunset beach stroll, you will avoid that shit like the plague. It's hard to say when the long greenish brown strands of mysterious bulbs and whips actually ceased to live or whether they're even dead or alive. If they didn't die before washing ashore, they may as well have. Once it separates from its anchor on the sea floor and is adrift wherever the currents carry it, it is done for. It's only a matter of time. And it all ends up the same place: stinking, rotting, and in the way. The idea that anyone would even give it a chance - wash off the sand and mites, put it in the car, take it home and put it in... your nice clean swimming pool? - it's laughable. Unworkable. Yes, I'm talking about me,

the junkie.


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