The Addiction.

Hi, my name’s Jeff, and I’m an addict. It’s 24 hours until my next broken commitment.

Why answer a question when you can simply kick the can? I know it’s going to catch up eventually, but today I tell you what you want, make you smile, make you lust.

Tomorrow I know it’ll be different, but that’s tomorrow’s problem, and tomorrow me isn’t today me; he’ll be prepared, he’ll have a better plan.

What’s that? You want to know what we’re going to do? Punch in the gut, but I play along anyway. I know it’s a lie, but it feels good now. Just gotta think of a way out.

The day finally comes, and the cold sweat of panic sinks in. You message me; I don’t respond. How can I, in the face of it all? You message again, questions, concern, anger. My day is long; I dread looking at my phone. A million excuses run through my head; another minute goes by.

Finally, the dam breaks; I break the news. Inevitably you’re angry; inevitably you walk away.

I sit silent, unable to tell the world why I wallow; it’s a prison of my own making, one that I can never admit.

Then I’m back to the same old routine. Old habits die hard, it seems. The enthralling addiction to saying yes, only to know deep down I can never commit; the unwillingness to disappoint, only to make you walk away.

Hi, my name’s Jeff, and I’m an addict. It’s been 24 hours since my last broken commitment.