Cred că am spus, scris sau gândit „I’m addicted to..” de nu știu câte ori în viața asta, fără să fie vorba despre vreun drog, ci despre locuri, activități, oameni, idei și tot felul de chestii în care mi se părea că mă regăsesc oarecum. Dependența depinde doar de mine și de ceea ce caut, nu de obiectul ei în sine. Prea puțin contează what/who I allow myself to become addicted to.
When I find something I can relate to, I see it as a temporary refugee and I tend to repeat it until it becomes a habit. I quit as soon as I realize that nothing and nobody can fully cover my deep-running need to Belong (somewhere or with someone).
In my world, addiction had & has many forms, but it’s basically the same thing: not the drug itself, but the search for something I can slightly connect to at any level.
I never found anything or anyone I could connect to entirely, therefore the addiction had its limits and never lasted very long.
So, I take everything as it comes, I’m not afraid of losing my mind when I find a temporary situation in which I merely feel that I (sort of) belong. I know it never lasts as long as my search never ceases to go further.
Drug addicts are those people who refuse to keep looking for something they can connect to, people who settle with little, who are afraid to keep searching, people who are very insecure and disappointed with everything and everyone, hopeless humans, people who resign from their own path of finding themselves.