And so, like being addicted to a bad drug habit you find yourself in deep shit.
There are OBVIOUS addictions–to drug, to alcohol, to smokes, to sex, to wanton disregard for anything that is correct. And then, there are addictions that will refuse to be boxed to a certain category: addiction to gaming or the internet; or for people and for various shits in between.
Classic junkies shoot up cocaine, snort a line or two, take a puff or maybe even swallow — the pill (and not anything else). But your addiction is different. You crave and you patronise. You find reasons for anything and everything. Surviving without that sweet drug is not an option for you.
And so, you entertain and you give way to your wants (and not needs), to the unnecessary…to obvious whims and passing fancies.
Because you are addicted. So you shoot up, you drink up, you inhale and exhale your own brand of heroin (if I may borrow, Edward C.)
Me? I am addicted to DRAMA. I need DRAMA to continue this pathetic life of mine. Everything has to have a storyline. Every effing day of my life needs a script, with a good soundtrack (preferably 90s rockstar emo, read: Silverchair or maybe, trip rock: Incubus). For the life of me, I couldn’t move pass a day without bringing shitty complications in my life. I am not happy with just being plain. or boring. or plain and boring. The minute I open my eyes, the drama starts and won’t finish until I close ’em a good 26 hours later. The story of my life, ladies and gentlemen– like a bad Pinoy teledrama set on repeat and on forever mode.
To generate drama, I generate little compulsions and little needs and little wants, much to the misfortune of my long-suffering hubby. No one ever said that being married to a Drama Queen is easy.
But there will come a time that even the Drama Queen will say enough. Will throw in the towel and will just hanker for a simple, quiet life.
I don’t need unnecessary crap in my life right now. And so, I am in rehab.
I am distancing myself away from unnecessary needs and wants and misplaced attachments. I need to refocus my attention on things that matter. But you know, saying good bye sometimes to things that make life crazy and dangerous and exciting is like quitting junk cold turkey. So… the withdrawal symptoms begins: the long silences, the crazy ass behavior, the need to distant yourself from the shitty people who makes life less tolerable. Wanting a little taste here and there; then quitting mid-shoot… I’ve been there.
I really needed this now. But since no one really gets me (and my crazy personality), I’d rather shut up.
Just another confession from a (recovering) drama queen.
LIFESTYLE WANDERLAND 