Secrets of an addict

Let me tell you a skeleton in my closet. Swear you won’t get shocked, frightened or scared. Assure me you will empathize. Guarantee me you’ll still respect me.

Alright, drum roll please… I’m addicted to novels. I know you’re disappointed. You probably thought I’m going to drop a bomb just as loud as the one in Hiroshima.

I’m not really blurting out that I read books. Most people will be surprised, knowing that I do read, they’ll go, “Oh, really?” Yeah, really.

What do I mean of addict? Well, much like a druggie. I’m dependent on it. Before, I have stopped being a user because my sister hasn’t bought a new one for several months. That’s how hard it is in the past couple of years or so.

Still, that didn’t stop me from bringing back my fascination into reading. Currently, I’m leafing through the pages of Tuesdays with Morrie. I have read it for the nth time but I’m still reading it. That’s how much I love reading (see, I’ve said reading too much). In one sitting (well, more of a forty winks kind of thing), I dashed about more than half of it already. If I just didn’t use the computer now, it’s probably history.

Okay, I have another idiosyncrasy. Let’s do the drum roll again… I’m addicted to Coke. Nah, it’s not cocaine, Coke as in Coca-Cola.

Before, I gulp 12 oz. of soft drinks everyday. That was way back in high school. Now, I seldom pick up a bottle to slurp, once a week maybe. But that’s just it. My mom and my sisters told me that it’s bad for my health, but I don’t really see — even felt — that there’s any discomfort from drinking.

Well, I’m a changed man. It just counter-balanced my addiction.


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