Most addicts dont choose their addiction. More often than not it is introduced to them by a friend or mutual acquaintance. Perhaps it is as innocent as the offer of a cup of coffee or chocolate bar — two foods they find themselves suddenly able to live without.
Maybe they felt pressured to try something different to fit in and be accepted. Someone hands them a cigarette or a beer knowing they do not smoke or drink. Oh come on, lighten up, have some fun, dont be a *****, it wont kill ya, and you might even like it.

Nobody chooses addiction – the choices are made after they are hooked. I didnt choose to become so dependent on the Fan Fiction stories. I stumbled across the site by accident but was tempted, teased, enticed, encouraged, entangled and drawn back again and again by what I read. So I guess you could say YOU are to blame for weakness, my addiction, my dependency. I didnt choose this addiction, but I choose to continue feeding it. I choose the self-destructive behavior I am exhibiting, I choose NOT to seek help. I deny that this addiction is affecting my life and my relationships in a negative way. I choose to blame others for my predicament and I can stop anytime I want to. . . . I choose not to.

I sit down in the dark at the computer knowing K will be asleep for hours. I log onto the site and see that one of my favorite authors has FINALLY posted another chapter. Like the junkie who mainlines, I close my eyes, exhale slowly, thank the gods above (or the devil below) then let the drug work its magic throughout my system. For a brief moment I am content.

I read the story several times fearing it may be another week or more before she writes again. She is an excellent storyteller, and thats what its all about — the ability to entertain, to provoke thought, to create feelings of joy or discomfort in the reader, to spin a tale so engrossing the reader is hooked, addicted, always looking forward to the next chapter. She does all that and more. She makes me want more — more dialogue, more drama, more conflict, more ***** — she has me hooked and I thank her for that. She has me hooked and I hate her — she is the best !! Its all about the story and she knows that.She is that good.

I scroll through the numerous posts I havent read and begin. I will read them all and I will enjoy most of them, maybe not with as much joy and enthusiasm as I felt just minutes ago when I read HER stuff. But that doesnt matter because I will read. I will go back to previous chapters so I can remember what was going on when the last chapter ended. There are so many good ones, I sometimes confuse the plots so I have to refresh my memory. I will find the ones that made me laugh and read them again. I will look for the ones that made me wet and read them again and again. I will read and read and read and stop and ask myself How the fu*ck did I get so messed up?

Ive had obsessions and addictions before and I have always managed to overcome them. Some of them just ran their course, some of them began to bore me, some of them I had to work my out of, and some were simply replaced by another addiction. God, I remember the soap opera one which was a little unnerving. One of my college roommates used to watch them religiously – I was never really interested in that type of entertainment, I thought it to be a bit foolish, until she invited me to watch one with her. It was the middle of the afternoon and there we were still in our pajamas eating ice cream and potato chips huddled around a community television in the lounge at the end of the hall in our dorm. I was surprised at how many other girls were there. The room was buzzing with excited chatter and I was quite amused and enthralled as my roommate tried to update me before the show began. Ssshh, ssshhh quiet quiet you morons . . Its starting so shut the fu*k up. You could literally hear a pin drop.

I wasnt sure what was more disturbing to me — being I a room with all these seemingly educated women, mouths agape, eyes glued to the screen, moaning with disappointment at the choices the characters were making or my reaction to it all — I was mesmerized, eyes glued to the screen, my mouth agape almost moaning with disgust at the choices the characters were making. OH MY GOD, someone screamed from the back of the room. If Patch and Kayla do not get together SOON I will kill myself. How much longer can they dance around the fact that they were made for each other? She needs to forgive him and they need to have ***** NOW! The room exploded in applause and shouts of agreement, My roommate pulled the bottom of my pajama top telling me to sit down and shut up . I was clapping loudly and nodding my head wildly yelling You are so right. I remember my roommate telling me to relax – there were two more shows we were scheduled to watch.

It was just a matter time before I found myself lying to my friends about having something to do and not being able to hang with them. I even started scheduling classes around the show times (remember, Im old and VCRs were not much of an option for a college girl with no TV in her room) and wondered how I would ever be able to graduate on time, how I would ever be able to find a job let alone want to work all the while wondering if Hope and Bo or Luke and Laura would ever find happiness together. I was so pathetic — such a weak, pathetic liar — such an addict.

Its funny – I remember so vividly how the addictions in my life began and what I did to keep them alive — I just cant remember how I let them go. And I did let them go. And I will let this one go — this FAN FIC thing that keeps me up all night, that makes me stupid for romance and ***** and everything Bette and Tina and Alice and Dana and Shane, that makes me want rush home and check the computer. I will get over this one –I just choose not to at this time.
I suddenly feel tired — too much reading, if that is possible for me. I yawn and glance at the digital alarm clock near the bed. 7:38 — Ive been sitting here in the dark over 4 hours. How pathetic .
I shut the computer down and head back to the big bedroom where K still sleeps. I open the door just a bit and lean against its frame watching her — so peaceful – so beautiful – so nave .I envy her. Shell be waking up soon; well have breakfast, chat about nothing, take a shower together and plan a bike ride. Neither of us is working today and K likes to ride when we both have the time.

I straighten up from the doorway, head to the kitchen and pray for rain . . . wondering all the while when SHE will write another chapter . . . .

TBC