Return to rehab

Since I was young it has been obvious to me that within myself I have some kind of addiction and I have relapsed each time I have made a breakthrough. Like an addict I am a creature of habit and preference. Mine being submergance in to a video game, a novel, a TV series or movie, a simple hobby or even my beloved sports team. I get so intrinsically involved that I take my pleasure and pain directly from it, my justification, my happiness or lack thereof, all stem from whatever folly I force to occupy a small corner of my mind, which in turn allows me to turn my back on the remaining grey matter and potential within.

I have gotten so in to a TV series that I have joined forums and written at length on my thoughts and feelings, argued with strangers online and created spin-offs or sequels that nobody asked for. I have become so involved with a game that I’ve created a system of notebooks to keep track of what has happened and plan for what may happen next. I’ve taken on hobbies, a few of which are actually productive, and have found myself so driven by the statistics (improvements made, cause and effect, optimal performance) that it has taken over my life. I’ve been so obsessed with stories that I have mimicked characters and found myself incorporating their mannerisms in to my everyday life. I’ve found myself wishing fantasy to be reality, daydreaming of a life born in another era, imagined friendships with real-life idols that will never be aware of my existence.

Ignorance is the drug I crave; ignorance of myself, the person I am, who I can be and what I can contribute to the world. My method of execution is distraction. I need to be engrossed in something otherwise I am bothersome, irritable, bored and unchallenged. So I engross myself in others work, it’s the easy option. Rather than create the perfect world to live in I invade somebody else’s and attempt to bend it to my comfort. Even as I type I find my mind racing and skin itching at the memory of stories I’ve long since checked out of and games I’ve left behind. “Go back” my psyche whispers, “there’s more, much more” my comfort-zone agrees. My lizard-brain questions me “You have a world, many worlds, you have put time and effort in to – and while they weren’t yours, you’ve in a way conquered them. You can be a king or even a god in any of these worlds, why would you leave them behind to create a new world that may not be sustainable? To struggle and doubt and question yourself constantly? To be a pauper in your own tale?” and the answer is I don’t know.

What I do know is that I’m not happy in what I have been doing, I do know that when I’m bored and looking for something to do there is something deep down inside me telling me to do this but I always let self-doubt talk me out of it, I do know that somewhere down the line this is what I’m going to do – so why wait for the right time, better circumstances, more life experience? Why not just jump on board and see where the wheels take me? The destination may not be where I’d hoped but I’m sure I’ll enjoy the ride.

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