I figure the best thing to do in this scenario is just to be honest. I suppose you can’t hide from yourself forever. Eventually, your reflection stops believing your lies. The truth is…..I have an addiction. That’s right, it’s finally out. I can breathe now. The secret no longer needs to be tucked away in tiny envelopes and buried deep in the cavernous bowels of my subconscious.
The thing that gets me the most about the manifestation of this disease is that I should have seen it coming. I should have seen it as easily as one sees the dark ominous clouds that fill the sky prior to the unleashing of a powerful twister. It also should have been obvious given my genetic proclivities. It runs in the family. Invariably, it has found its way to me. It was embedded in my DNA, lying dormant, biding time. I no longer try to deny its existence, but simply attempt to keep its ravenous appetite subdued. Much easier accomplished in theory than in practice I assure you. Idle hands are truly the Devil’s workshop, and spare time only fuels the desire that consumes me. Recently, I’ve begun perusing the dark recesses of the internet in search of my fix. I am addicted….I am addicted I say….My name is Brown a.k.a Mr. Poopie (after my bright disposition) and I am addicted to crossword puzzles.
I don’t rightly know what sparked the fire that is now an uncontrollable blaze. All I know is that I can’t get enough of them. I subscribed to a local newspaper under the pretense that I wanted to be informed. Truthfully, I only wanted it for the puzzles. I wake up each morning, like a giddy child on Christmas day looking forward to opening presents. In diner’s, I excitedly await a patron to finish with his or her newspaper before rifling through it to uncover my prize. I keep a vigilant eye on park benches, coffee shop tables, and store counter tops for evidence of an abandoned newspaper. Just the other day, I did the unimaginable. I absconded with one from a bathroom stall. I’m thinking about joining a support group. I think I may need help.