Picture of an addiction

It was the 8000th time or so, he could barely imagine. His mind was filled with so many questions, less answers. Why was he doing that? It seemed as though he was destroying his own life. All those actions for nothing. Now, his addiction, as he called it, was not giving him relief. It was only a blind feat he had to perform, an obligation, a must he did not like anymore.

He wondered how, when and why it started but he could not answer. He remembered the first time. The devil was not in the details but in that very day. It had been so easy to have completed it and there was no regret that time. Of course, the devil was helping him enter his realm in order to trap him so he could never escape. Could he?

He was tired. That was the only thing he got from it. And the guilty thoughts which seemed like a depression nowadays. Should he visit a psychiatrist? He would only give him medicines and a psychologist would babble about his infancy and things like that. The past was not the problem, it was the present!

He should not be thinking but acting in such a way that he would someday be free from slavery to sin. Was it a sin? If he read the Bible carefully, it could be. It was, indeed. He was in need of something, he had gotten addicted to his own neurochemicals by now and what could he do? Change activities, get out of that cycle of self destruction before it was too late for him. And now, he was going to make it, no matter what.