By Spero Alexio
I met my addictive self one night. He was banging on the door at three in the morning like some kind of rage filled monster. I imagined that he was seven feet tall, scaly skin, demon eyes and intended to rip me to shreds.
I opened the door and found that my addicted self was only a frightened child who needed someone to talk to. So I invited him in.
We sat by the fireplace and ate a box of Fig Newtons while watching the flames do a relaxing dance in the hearth. I asked what had been bothering him and he replied cryptically, “a lot of things, you should know.”
I had to agree that I was aware of a variety of stressful situations in my life, but had neglected to acknowledge them.
“You see, I’m a very busy man.” I said to my addictive self.
“That’s why I came by,” my addicted self said. “I came here because you haven’t been paying attention to me.”
We talked about old times and had a few good laughs. After awhile, my addicted self began to drift away.
“I sorry but I don’t want you coming back,” I said.
He turned to me and shook his head, “Well, that’s really up to you.”…