Member-only story
The Reality of my Shapeshifting Addiction
Addiction is like a looming shapeshifter amidst the weak-minded yet even nearer to those who have a strong, self-aware mind. My monstrous demon resides inside my body, alongside my soul that hosts my inner passions and dreams and visions. This addiction forces my soul into a filthy grime of black terror and horrendous fear, feeding lies to my mind and manipulating my body to act on its whim, as if I am the puppet and he, my puppet master.
My addictions stem from self-doubt and emotions of unworthiness, which feeds this shapeshifting monster of mine to push me to self-harm, drink too much, dabble with drugs, starve myself, eat compulsively, research until my brain is tired, force isolation upon myself. The list of potential bad habits will only grow as I age, but the key words here are potential and habits, meaning I ultimately have control over whatever my monster tries manifesting himself into. I also have the choice for this habit to not turn into a full-blown addiction, rather a momentary lapse in careless thinking or negative self-esteem.
The first time I can recall thinking to myself I had an addiction that needed addressed was when I was 16 years old and could not stop picking at my scabs and scratches, further worsening the gnarly scars that could have easily faded into my skin in due time. But no, I craved the feeling of re-harming the parts of my body that were…
