I had been warned about the addictive nature of love, but I never truly understood it until I experienced it firsthand. It was when I failed to comprehend that it could turn into an obsession if allowed to, that I became entangled in my own thoughts. The line between addiction and genuine attachment was incredibly thin, like the delicate strand of a spider’s silk, and it was far too easy to veer off course. It was natural to have yearnings and desires, as humans are imperfect and driven by emotions. However, the problem arose when I tried to force something to happen for the sake of my own ego.

When certain things and people were meant to be in my life, all I had to do was embrace and reflect on the beauty that was shared. But often, I found myself off balance, holding an abundance of love with no suitable place to direct it. I had so much to offer and share, yet it seemed to go to waste because it couldn’t fit into anyone’s grasp. Hope clung to me like an addict, promising a smoother path forward, as I blindly pursued the unknown, propelled by passion, convinced I was on the trail to uncover the truth. I couldn’t see anyone else, unable to believe that something better existed, convinced that everything I possessed was merely a false memory. The heart took charge, and I could only hold on tightly as it seemed to relentlessly steer the ship.

Heartache, intuition, and determination made me appear irrational to onlookers as I blindly followed my heart, enslaved by love. Fear, coldness, and hatred became irrelevant when the heart took the lead, and in rare moments of clarity, when I could breathe without losing my balance, I realized that something within it all kept the spark alive while simultaneously pushing everything else away. I found myself with fewer friends, for a life guided by a passionate heart was often seen by sceptics as a weakness rather than a testament to strength. They preferred to believe in random afflictions and catastrophes rather than acknowledging the power of love, an attitude that seemed illogical at best.

Love’s addiction sustained me through any obstacle, for only a fool would navigate a life besieged by hardships and illness, feeling as though they could conquer a marathon while struggling for breath.

“I admire addicts. In a world where everybody is waiting for some blind, random disaster or some sudden disease, the addict has the comfort of knowing what will most likely wait for him down the road. He’s taken some control over his ultimate fate, and his addiction keeps the cause of his death from being a total surprise.”

― Chuck Palahniuk

When I could determine where I was going first, and then decide who I would take with me on the journey, it made everything worthwhile. The destination belonged to me, with all the dreams and desires I could ever imagine, but the company I kept was always my choice. There were various factors to consider, and many of them made sense for a certain period of time. Perhaps there was a lesson to learn or it served as a reminder that I needed to change my direction.

I was on my way to the destination, driven to reach the end, often forgetting the true significance of the journey itself, which was actually more important. I embarked on my life’s journey, consciously striving to stay on track, afraid of getting lost in unfamiliar territory. It was only when I let go of control that I discovered the most captivating destinations, gradually becoming addicted to these experiences. Breaking away from the norms and challenging the status quo became a daily pursuit. I felt liberated when I explored new opportunities, never afraid to leap from one path to another because life always had a way of guiding me back on track. Being rebellious at times was worth all the troubles that my disobedience might bring.

“There are two questions a man must ask himself: The first is ‘Where am I going?’ and the second is ‘Who will go with me?’

If you ever get these questions in the wrong order you are in trouble.”
― Sam Keen

I needed to focus on getting things done correctly, almost forgetting that what I truly needed was just the addition to make it perfect. I sought the assistance of others to help me deal with my own problems, only to end up disappointed and falling into addictive behaviours. In reality, the only person who could truly help me was myself. I desired a cake, expecting everyone around me to contribute, viewing love as a necessity when in truth, it was something I had to cultivate on my own. All I needed was the finishing touch, the cherry on top. The missing pieces should have been so insignificant that only keen eyes would notice the difference. The addition to what I had already built, the growth and lessons learned from every wrong path I had taken, that was the essence of love.

When I lacked self-love and doubted my own abilities, I could easily mistake it for addiction. I let go of hope and reached for a glass with two ice cubes and a strong beverage, thinking that if I ignored my feelings every night, they would eventually disappear. I hid my emotions behind a mask, forcing a fake smile in the morning, pretending that everything was fine, only to confront the night with the same destructive habits and an empty glass waiting to be refilled once again.

Facing the truth and breaking free from old patterns and ego could also mean leaving behind my old addictions and embracing a new way of living. It was a life where things were added as a bonus, not solely dependent on seeking extra love from others as a reward for good behaviour. I couldn’t change people, and everything had to come from within. All the unspoken words and unexpressed love would simply accumulate until one day, I would light a cigarette with them, leaving no trace behind.

“There’s so much I should say, so many things I should tell him, but in the end, I tell him nothing.

I cut a line and my losses, and I light a cigarette.”
― Clint Catalyst

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